


Citrus and Woolen Blankets

by Princess_Aleera



Series: Stark Spangled Hawks [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: #coulsonlives, Alpha!Jane, Alpha!Steve, Alpha!Tony, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Asgard ain't got no A/B/O, Beta!Coulson, Beta!Pepper, Established Relationship, Fluff, Getting Together, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Movie Spoilers, Multi, Omega!Happy, Omega!Hulk, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sharing, Smell pheromones are a thing, Threesome - M/M/M, alpha!bruce, brief hurt!Clint, brief hurt!Tony, everything/nothing!Natasha, omega!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 12:33:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Aleera/pseuds/Princess_Aleera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's weird, really, how they all fit.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Steve and Tony take care of their Omega in heat, and Tony reminisces on how the three of them became a thing.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a prompt here: http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/16019.html?thread=35489683#t35489683 , and now fixed and continued. Anon asked for an A/B/O threesome between Alpha!Tony/Alpha!Steve/Omega!Clint, and I deviously used that as an excuse to indulge in my praise/fluff kink. So if you have a degradation or pain kink, awesome for you, but you won't find that in this fic. Sorry. :)
> 
> Some tags might not appear until later chapters.
> 
> Warning-wise: there is brief, implied abuse or mal-treatment of Clint in his past. Mpreg is also canon because of the world set-up, but it's only mentioned briefly. Let me know if I've forgotten any warnings - I chose not to include any dub-con tags, because although the mechanics of a heat renders it as a possibility, I feel like I was pretty clear with the implied consent. If it's unclear: yes, everyone is happy and okay with what's going on. :)
> 
> One more thing: it's very brief and implied, but I hope to add to that at some point - Phil was/is asexual in this !verse. This is partly inspired by another kinkmeme prompt; let me know if that's something anyone want me to expand on.

 

Weird, really, how they all fit.  
  
Tony's always been a bit of a toppy-possessive bastard. He suspects he got it from Howard; all those bullshit 'My Son The Strong Alpha Male(TM)' speeches latching onto the more bestial part of his brain and festering there. Tony's fine with sharing, that's not it – he's enjoyed several many-somes in his life before now. It's just that he's usually the only Alpha. Or if not, he's at least the one to call the shots.  
  
So yeah, it had surprised him when this Tony-and-Clint thing had somehow turned into a Tony-and-Clint-and-Steve thing, and Steve had let his Alpha scent roll off him in waves and brought Barton to his knees, and Tony's own inner Alpha had... quietly backed off.  
  
Maybe it was something about the serum, that Steve was the epitome of human perfection blah blah blah. Maybe it was the fact that even pre-serum Steve, that tiny little asthmatic dude Tony's seen in pictures Steve has since shown him, had still been an Alpha, and the serum only accentuated and made that more obvious. Maybe it's just that Steve is Steve and no matter how much Tony's Alpha brain wants to rumble about Captain America stealing his Omega, the rest of him knows all too well that that's not something the guy would ever do.  
  
Tony doesn't know. But he really fucking likes it.  
  
"Look at you, all wrecked," Steve sighs and slides down onto the couch to wrap around Clint. Their archer's sweating bullets and shivering like a leaf, curled up in a heap on the couch of their shared apartment and making low, hurt noises. Clint's off Avenger duty when he's in heat, but the rest of the team aren't, and unfortunately, killer unicorn robots (no, Tony's not shitting) don't tend to give a damn that Tony and Steve would rather spend today home with their Omega than fighting in Central Park.  
  
Not that it matters now. The unicorns are disassembled and the rest of the team – save for Bruce, who's still his non-angry self and tinkering down in the lab – are doing the clean-up. There is nowhere Tony and Steve need to be but right here, right now.  
  
"Mmmmwuh," Clint says, about as coherent as he can get when he's reaching the peak of his cycle. Steve draws him into his lap, Clint still curled up into this way-too-small ball version of himself. Steve's scent, rich, deep and earthy instead of the almost nauseatingly musky scent some Alphas have, helps. To some extent, at least. Clint seeks him out, curling in to sniff at Steve's collarbone and rub his nose against Steve's skin. But he's still jittery, twitching like he's suffering the aftermath of an electrocution. So Tony sits down next to Steve, angling himself so his front presses against Clint's back, the two Alphas framing their Omega safely between them.  
  
"Sorry we were delayed, babe," Tony says into the sweaty hair that curls around Clint's nape, and the other shivers pleasantly. "Wanna-be nemesis, you know how it goes."  
  
Clint only whimpers quietly and tries to move towards both of them at the same time, needing them closer. He smells heavenly; like citrus and motor oil and disinfectant. Tony doesn't know why those are his favorite smells in this world, but they are; Steve, apparently, smells completely different things. Leather, he'd told Tony once, and fresh bread and the wool blankets they kept in the army barracks.  
  
It's a strange thing, the pheromone effect. It's what had alerted Clint and Tony to Steve in the first place; the way his eyes had widened as Clint was entering his heat. Not in possessiveness or feral lust, but in wonder and longing.

"Come on, Clint," Steve murmurs and tightens his grip around the archer's waist. "Let's get you a little more comfortable."

Steve's strangely unflappable, Tony's learned since he first met the de-frozen guy. He's taken to the twenty-first century better than anyone had any right to assume. But in some ways, he's still a '40's kid – still a goddamn romantic. Now, he slides a hand underneath Clint's legs and lifts him, bridal style, and carries him into their shared bedroom. Tony chuckles and Clint is just far enough gone not to bitch about it, instead frowning faintly and looking around for his other Alpha. Tony laces their fingers, Clint relaxing at the touch.  
  
Steve usually has the first go. It's not so much an Alpha thing; they all know how the ranking goes and they don't feel the need to shove it down the other's throat (except Clint, of course, who loves getting things shoved down his throat). It's mostly just the fact that the serum gives him a shorter refractory period than Tony, which means that when their boy's in heat, he'll have the possibility of someone's knot in him pretty much non-stop for the worst day if he needs it.  
  
Clint's starting to shake again, now. He's a quiet Omega, one of the quietest Tony has experienced. He doesn't know why, though it seems trained; Clint biting off his sounds and moans for as long as possible, as if afraid someone will hear them. Tony doesn't know who did that, and he plans to find out some day – when this polyamorous arrangement is a little more solid, familiar. Steve has only been here for one previous heat, even if they've been three people for almost five months by now.  
  
It doesn't stop Tony from growling in his head at whoever – probably an Alpha or a string of them – felt the need to smother their archer's natural sounds.  
  
He undresses while Cap keeps Clint busy, and crosses the room and climbs onto the bed just in time for Clint to whisper Tony's name, asking for him so, so quietly – still afraid they might hear.  
  
"I'm here, babe, we're good," Tony murmurs and lets Clint clutch at him, their bodies sliding together effortlessly, familiar and warm. He can smell how wet Clint is, how ready and desperate he's for them both, but there's no rush. Or, well, it is, but it's not _Tony's_ rush. That's Steve's job for now. Tony spends the half-minute Steve needs to rid himself of his own clothes plundering Clint's mouth, the Omega relaxing against him and at the gentle display of domination. The archer's breath quickens and his eyes darken, but they also grow slightly less hazy.  
  
"Hey, there," Tony smirks down at him, reveling in the way Clint looks utterly debauched already. Skin flushed and chest heaving, fingers clutching at Tony's upper arms strong enough to bruise, swollen lips quirked in a small, private smile that's all for Tony and Steve.  
  
"Get the bad guys?" Clint rasps, back for now, for a moment, and Tony nods. Steve climbs onto the bed and slides his hands all the way up Clint's legs and body, the Omega gasping.  
  
"Robot unicorns," Tony says, and Steve leans down to claim Clint's mouth as well.  
  
"Seriously?" Clint says between kisses.  
  
"Completely," Steve replies. "We'll tell you all about it. _After_." And the Alpha twang is clear as the strum of a guitar string, both Clint and Tony shuddering a little at it.  
  
Sometimes, Tony wonders if he's got a bit of Omega in him. Usually, he realizes it's just that Steve's special.

  


~*~

_It's been two months now. Since the Battle of New York. None of the team acknowledges it, when the date comes, but Tony knows they all remember. Bruce is hiding on his own floor in preparation for the Big Guy's heat, Thor had mumbled something about 'checking on the prisoner' a few days back and gone home to see his brother, who's still imprisoned in Asgard. Steve has been even more quiet than usual, drawing his scent in until he doesn't really smell like anything – could hide away in the crowds outside under the guise of being a Beta if he wanted to. Natasha's been cleaning every piece of weapons equipment she's got during the last two days – and she has a lot _of weapons – and doesn't say a word unless spoken to.__

_Tony hasn't seen Clint for three days._

_Tony spends today in the workshop, himself, tinkering with Hawkeye's explosive arrows – Clint wants an option of regulating the blast radius – and tries not to remember the parts of that day he hates the most. Getting sucked into the Helicarrier's engine and wondering (for the first, but hardly the last time that day) if this was it. Hearing Fury's 'Coulson is down' and seeing the video evidence later, as well as the blood stain on the wall from where Agent had bled out. Holding onto the nuke as he flew through the wormhole, his suit shutting down and JARVIS's voice dying in his ear and feeling the nothingness press down against him and knowing, knowing _that yeah. This was actually it.__

_Telling Clint during shawarma, over a goddamn toast in the guy's honor, no less, that his handler and one of his best friends was dead because of him._  
  
 _Yeah. Tony really hates today._  
  
 _Sir? Agent Barton wishes to see you,” JARVIS says, his own AI version of plaintive. The workshop isn't on total lockdown, but JARVIS knows Tony's shitty moods better than Tony does, and he's not a great team player when he's in one of them._  
  
“ _Yeah, send him in,” Tony says, going for casual and having no idea if he manages it. He looks up from his work as Clint walks through the door, shoulders around his ears and not quite meeting his eyes. The archer's pale and drawn, his skin looking sweaty – almost doughy – in the fluorescents down here._  
  
“ _You busy?” Clint asks, and sounds resigned already. Like he fully expects to be kicked out of here before he's even said what he's come here for._  
  
“ _Not overly, no,” Tony says instead of cracking an obvious joke. He wipes his hands on his shirt and walks around the table. That's when it hits him; a strong, heady flavor in the air. Tony can't help but suck in a long, deep breath through his nostrils, his Alpha instincts flaring as he susses out the different, individual smells intermixed with one another. Citrus fruit; freshly squeezed lime the way they only get in the midst of summer, when Tony gets them shipped in as soon as they're plucked from their Californian fields. Motor oil, Tony's favorite; the one he uses when Dummy's joints are giving him hell and threatening to rust and squeak, and Tony will take an afternoon off and rub the oil into each and every joint of his kid, Dummy bleeping happily from the ministrations. And... disinfectant? Yeah, he thinks so – the kind his mother always used to keep on the night stand in her bedroom and in her private bathroom. She rarely used perfume, but the disinfectant was slightly scented; sweetness mingling with the sharp tang of antibacterial gel. Tony would sneak in and sniff the bottle sometimes, when his mother was out of town on business – and a few years later, after she died – but rarely used it himself. The company that made them have since changed the formula, and Tony can't get a hold of it anymore. This particular aroma, of_ home _and_ safe _, he hasn't smelled for twelve years._  
  
“ _Jesus,” he says before he can stop it, nearly swaying with the way it makes every Alpha instinct in him rise to attention. Barton's going into heat, that's for sure. His essence fills up every inch of space between them – and that's fine, really, can't expect an Omega to stay on suppressants for every heat he's got. But Tony sure as fuck didn't expect the guy to smell so goddamn amazing._  
  
“ _I'm sorry,” Clint says tightly and his gaze falls to the floor. “I didn't – I don't want to mess up any team dynamics, and I hate to spring this on you, but I was a couple of days early and–” he lets out a shuddery breath._  
  
 _Tony knows what the archer's asking of him – what he doesn't get is why he's asking Tony, of all people. “Why me?” he says. When Clint does his trained-agent version of wincing, Tony quickly laments: “I mean, I'm flattered, don't get me wrong. I just – Cap is an Alpha and he seems like the... I don't know, more obvious choice?”_  
  
 _Clint smiles, but it's a smile devoid of any humor or real emotion. He's got his hands shoved deep into his pockets, but Tony can still see how his arms tremble with the effort to hold still and not plaster himself all over Tony. “I'm sure Rogers will be the best Alpha any Omega could ever hope for, but I'm not – this is just a heat thing. I just need someone to help me out. Even if Cap gets the casual sex thing, something tells me he doesn't do it all that often.”_  
  
 _Tony can't help but snort at that. Yeah, no. Steve is very much the eternal-bonding kind of Alpha. “So you needed casual sex and the first one you thought of was me? I'm flattered, Barton.”_  
  
“ _Pretty much,” Clint says, but at least his smirk is humorous now. “If even half the rumors are true, you've already had your share of Omegas. You'd know...” 'how to deal with me', he doesn't finish, but Tony nods._  
  
“ _They aren't, if you wondered,” he says and Clint meets his eyes for the first time since he came in here, frowning in confusion. “The rumors. I'd say about one out of five aren't total bullshit.” Tony leans back against his work table. “But yeah, I've been with some Omegas. I could take care of you, if that's what you're looking for.” And okay, so maybe he's deliberately pushing Barton's buttons here. But Omegas are different, just like Betas and Alphas are; some hate the Alpha-taking-care-of-the-poor-Omega thing, others love it. Some don't give a shit either way and Tony needs to know which kind Clint is, if they're going to be knotting in the very near future._  
  
 _Clint swallows and his eyes flicker down to the floor again, his body tensing as if stopping himself from moving forward. Okay. The first type, then. That's good, because it makes Tony's job easier. “That would – not suck,” Clint says in a deliberately casual voice._  
  
 _Tony nods. “Well, c'mon, then. I've got a spare bedroom just in the back.” He turns and smells Clint following him, the wonderful tang staying strong and close as they make their way into the small bedroom behind the workshop. It's more of a giant storage closet than anything else, with a big, comfortable bed and an adjoining bathroom, most of the spare space filled up with parts of spare suits. “JARVIS? Total lockdown of the lab.” He thinks for a moment. “And privacy settings for this room.”_  
  
“ _Certainly, sir,” JARVIS replies._  
  
“ _Thanks,” Clint says from right behind him, his voice rougher than a moment ago. When Tony gestures at the bed, the Omega walks past him to sit down on the edge. He looks deceptively small where he sits, fists bunched in his shirt, not sure whether to take it off or keep it on. “I'm – I'm on the pill, so there's nothing to worry about.”_  
  
 _Tony acknowledges that with a nod; he hadn't expected anything else.“Don't take this the wrong way,” Tony says before he realizes he's opened his mouth, “but why go into heat right now? I mean, it's none of my business, but it's hardly the perfect timing.”_  
  
 _Clint smiles thinly. “I stayed on suppressants the two last ones. Medical refused to give me more for this one. Didn't have much of a choice. And-” but there he stops, knuckles whitening, before he forces himself to go on. “And Coulson used to – he's the one who – who.” Another swallow and Tony feels like an asshole._  
  
“ _Fuck, I'm sorry, man,” he says and sits down next to Clint on the bed, their sides touching. He doesn't know if the contact is welcome – they don't know each other that well, even though that's changing fast – but he knows that Clint's Omega id will respond to the Alpha touch and calm the fuck down for a little while so the guy can think around his own wayward hormones. “I didn't know you two were bonded,” Tony says, because as far as he knows, none of the Avengers know – maybe apart from Natasha, because Tony never knows what's going on in her head. Clint certainly didn't smell bonded, even when Agent Coulson was still alive._  
  
“ _We weren't,” Clint says with a small, lost shake of his head. “He was – Coulson was a Beta, and he wasn't – wasn't interested in bonding with me. With anyone, actually. He just helped me out when I was in heat, made sure I wasn't-” Clint's voice tapers off into nothing, and he stares at the_  
  
 _worn rug on the floor for several seconds before he finally says “... alone, I guess.”_  
  
 _Tony nods and doesn't say anything, just lets his Alpha smell calm the Omega down. Everyone knew of Coulson's Beta status – it was one of the coolest things about Agent, in Tony's mind. People were still prone to give Betas shit; it was like if you didn't go out of your mind with pheromones or Alpha claiming instincts, you were somehow a lesser person. Tony is used to seeing the falsity of those claims for himself – Pepper has spent her whole life working against the prejudices and she's the most capable and scary woman Tony knows, aside from Natasha – and he loved to see Coulson stare Alpha agents in the eyes and make them cower with the power of badassery alone._  
  
 _Fuck if Tony doesn't miss the bastard. “So... you were the cellist?” Tony asks and smiles despite himself._  
  
 _Clint chuckles. “Yeah.” The heat and Omega aroma sours as grief starts to cloud it, bitter in Tony's nostrils. Fuck, this isn't doing any of them any good._  
  
“ _Okay, I'm gonna kiss you now unless you'd rather I didn't,” Tony says and glances over at the other. “And then we're gonna get naked. That sound good?”_  
  
 _Clint chuckles a little and nods, hands loosening their hold on his own shirt._  
  
 _Tony nods with him. “And I should know before we get started, just so there's no... y'know. Later. Do you want me to knot you? Because I don't have to,” he adds, because in half an hour's time, Clint's going to be out of his mind and Tony can't trust what he says then. This is pretty shabby as initial consultations go, but it's the best they can do right now, when Clint's heat is already up and running. “It's up to you.”_  
  
 _Clint bites his lip and furrows his brows, shuddering a little. Tony appreciates it; the guy's having trouble thinking straight already, but he's trying, and Tony needs him to try. If there's one thing he hates about Alphas, it's the assholes who use Omega's biology against them; knot them when they're too far gone to say no._  
  
“ _I usually – with Coulson, we'd use a knotting dildo,” Clint mumbles. Color rises high on his cheeks and Tony stares at the floor too. Yeah, talking about a dead guy's sex habits? Not nearly as much fun as Tony would once have thought._  
  
“ _If I'm not knotted, or something – something like that, I get, my heat tends to stick around and make a mess outta me.” Clint rubs a hand across his face, hard._  
  
“ _I guess that's a 'yes', then,” Tony says, making sure that there's absolutely no Alpha tendencies in his voice when he says it. Clint nods jerkily. “Okay, cool. Anything else I gotta know about? It's better to get it over with now, before we get started.”_  
  
“ _Uh.” Clint presses his lips together into a thin, white line, before crooking another empty smile at Tony. “Lay off the humiliation and dirty talk if you can, yeah? It's not- not my thing.” And he hunches down a little at that, a little more, and Tony knows that there's a whole heap of history there that the archer isn't telling him about, but that's fine._  
  
“ _Not really mine either,” Tony assures him._  
  
 _Clint lets out a slow exhale. “Okay. I guess that's – that's it.” He looks up at Tony, and the eye contact makes the scent in the air doubly heady. “Thanks a lot, Tony. I appreciate it.”_  
  
“ _It's a pleasure, Clint,” Tony says with a grin that's mostly bullshit, and realizes that it's one of the first times he's called the agent 'Clint' to his face, not 'Hawkeye' or 'Barton'._  
  
 _Then he's got a hand on Clint's neck and his mouth on the other man's, feeling Clint melt against him, and Tony makes his brain shut up for a little while._  


~*~

  
"Come on, c'mon," Tony coaxes, grinning from where he lies on his side, next to where the action's mostly going on. "Lemme hear those sounds, Barton."

Clint finally lets out a moan – low, but more than the punched-out half-sounds he's let himself utter up until now, even as gone as he is. His face is only inches from Tony's, but Tony doesn't think he notices; the Omega's got Steve in him now, in those final thrusts before the Alpha will knot him, and that's enough to make anyone forget about the third guy in the room. Tony doesn't mind. He'll have fun with Clint later; for now, he's working on his man's noises.

Steve's deliciously loud in bed; all moans and groans and strings of curses that aren't nearly as dirty in this century as they were in the thirties. That helps – Clint seems a bit less self-conscious about his own sounds when there's someone else there to drown him out. Steve's hands are big and firm, grasping Clint's hips as he moves, the soldier's forehead resting between the Omega's shoulder blades. Steve presses absent kisses to the sweaty skin there as he fucks into their archer, Clint's groans rising slightly as they both crawl closer to their individual edges.

"Fuuh," Clint grits out, not quite a moan but closer than usual, eyes pressed tightly shut and mouth slack, his entire body trembling.

Tony laughs quietly. "Yeah, come on, guys," he murmurs and sees how Steve's rhythm stutters at the words. The Captain hitches a breath and Clint's mouth twitches, like he wants to smile but has forgotten how. It's a nice little piece of evidence that they both know Tony's still right here.

" 'Ny _yyh_ ," Clint garbles, hands braced against the mattress as Steve pounds into him in double-time, his body tight with pleasure and imminent release.

Tony's been with Clint long enough to recognize his own name in only part-vowels, and he moves forward to caress Clint's jaw with his hand. " _Come_ , Clint," he says and infuses the words with his Alpha voice, pressing their mouths together because that never fails to get Clint off like a goddamn rocket.

Steve shouts as Clint's tightening muscles pushes him over the edge as well. Clint makes pleased and almost loud noises into Tony's mouth, like moaned secrets, as Steve knots him.

As soon as Steve's locked tightly inside the archer, Clint buckles and collapses to the mattress. Steve huffs a breathless laugh and shifts the two of them onto the side, Clint's sturdy frame almost dwarfed by the bigger Alpha.

"Hi," Steve says to Tony when they're lying down, Tony sitting up to stare at the sweaty, interlocked bodies of the two most gorgeous people he knows.

"Yeah, you can say that, Rogers," Tony grins and leans over Clint's boneless self to kiss Steve. They make out lazily, Steve lying down and Tony half-plastered over their Omega, until Clint's cognizant enough to slide his arms around Tony's waist. It's an awkward position for the archer, but Tony appreciates it. Clint stays away from his hard-on for now; they'll get to that later. Tony's got time. Contrary to everyone's beliefs – even his own – he can be really patient. If the reward is worth it. (Hint: it is.)

"Hey there, boy," Tony says and looks down at his archer, who's staring up at him with bright eyes now. Clint's always much more coherent after the initial tie, and although all the Harlequin romance books keep blabbering about Omegas staying out of their goddamn minds with lust for days, Tony prefers Clint like this. Still Clint – just hornier, mellower and cuddlier than usual.

"Mmm," Clint says and cranes his neck. Tony growls at the display and bends down; captures the delicate skin between his teeth and nips hard enough to bruise, but not to bite through. Clint shudders in pleasure and Steve sucks in a breath, before burrowing his nose in the archer's neck and hair. Tony can see Steve's smile and bites again; over and over, landing a trail of darkening bruises down Clint's neck towards his collarbone. Clint whines, so quiet Tony and Steve can barely hear it, even as close as they both are.  
"Good boy," Tony murmurs and licks the irritated skin better; tastes sweat and _Steve_ and _Clint_ and hums in contentment.

Clint skims his hands across Tony's body, wherever he can reach, and though he doesn't demand or tug, Tony knows what he's asking for. So he kisses Clint, holds his lower lip between his teeth, stays there until Clint's heart begins to pound and Tony pulls away to let the Omega breathe. Clint's sigh of bliss is one of Tony's favorite sounds.

"You're demanding today," Tony teases and lies back down; plasters himself against Clint's front and entangles his fingers with Steve's on the other side. Steve chuckles and moves his hips; he's still buried deep in Clint and the movement makes the Omega whimper in pain-pleasure.

"S'rry," Clint mumbles and tucks his head down. When he's with the team and off his heat, Clint's stubborn enough to claim himself as an Alpha, smell notwithstanding. But in the midst of heat, tied down and surrounded by his Alphas, Clint is pliant and strangely... shy, almost. Tony had wondered if it was a mask the first time he'd been been with Clint in heat, but nope. It's just how he is.

Tony likes to believe he and Steve get to see a glimpse of the archer as he once was all the time – before the world and his family screwed him over and forced him to wear the Alpha-mask he has in public. “Nothing to be sorry for, babe.”

They lie in Tony's giant-sized bed, all three of them, snoozing and listening to the others breathe, waiting for Steve's knot to deflate enough for him to pull away. As soon as it does, Steve eases himself out, deceptively gentle even with Clint's pheromones fucking with everyone's brains. He slants his lips over Tony's first, kissing him breathless, before he does the same with Clint. Then he grins at them both and goes to get those deluxe wipes Tony always keeps in the adjoining bathroom, returning to clean up the worst mess on the bed.

Tony lounges and watches; the natural thing would be for _him_ to be the one doing the cleaning, seeing as he's the least fucked out one of them right now. But this, right here? Is actually one of Steve's favorite parts. Neither Tony nor Clint completely get it, but the latter certainly appreciates it and the former reckons it's got something to do with Steve's needing to know that all his people are okay.

Clint rolls onto his back and spreads his legs; lets them fall apart without a hint of shyness. Steve settles between them, caressing the sensitive skin underneath Clint's knees and on the inside of his thighs just to see Clint shiver. Then the Alpha starts cleaning around Clint's puffy opening, carefully wiping away semen and extra slick, making sure that there's no blood or sign of tearing. There never is – Steve is a careful guy – but Steve's also big, so it would be easy to hurt Clint if the Omega wasn't naturally prepped and Steve naturally gentle.

Tony and Clint share chaste kisses while Steve cleans his Omega up, Clint positively radiant from the attention and affection. When Tony had first claimed Clint, the Omega had been so starved for attention in bed that it had nearly broken Tony's heart: the guy wanted so much and asked for absolutely fucking nothing. Clint had fully expected, at the time, to be used to and discarded. Instead, Tony had tried, to the best of his abilities, to put Clint together good as new every time he took the Omega apart. These days, he has Steve to help him do just that.

Between Tony and Steve, they've mostly managed to convince Clint by this point that there's no way in the fucking world they're going to leave – let Clint go – but there's always a big difference between saying pretty words and lavishing one's Omega with attention and love. Thankfully, all three of them prefer the latter option.  


~*~

  
 _They're quiet as they go, strangely so, and it's a little awkward but far from terrible. Tony can feel Clint fighting his own instincts for as long as he can, fighting not to submit fully to Tony. It's not a personal thing, Tony knows, so he doesn't mind it much. This isn't love, or bonding – it's just an Avenger helping out a friend, a team mate, and Clint probably doesn't want to give Tony more blackmail material than he's already got._  
  
 _Tony doesn't like that thought, because as much as he's a prize dick, he's got a line, and Omega bullying is pretty fucking firmly past that line – but that's not something Clint can know for sure. The archer doesn't trust easily, and just the fact that he came to Tony for help instead of going to a brothel or trying to deal with a knotting dildo by himself says a whole fucking lot. Tony will take what trust he can get and treasure it, because on the rare occasion, Tony Stark is actually the most awesome person ever._  
  
 _They stay tied for the better part of an hour, curled up in bed with Clint as the little spoon. His scent is still pungent in the air, but less invasive than earlier. Easier to ignore, so Tony can listen to his higher brain functions instead of just his Alpha instincts, which are – at this point – screaming for him to bite Clint's neck, bite down on any patch of skin he can reach, not to hurt but to_ claim _, to let everyone know in the morning that Clint is_ his _and no one else's._  
  
 _But Clint isn't his. Clint isn't anyone's, and so Tony restrains himself to a gentle kiss or two at the back of the archer's neck instead. Clint mewls, a sound so small and surprised Tony nearly misses it, and Clint immediately tenses. It jolts Tony's knot, still inside the other man, and Tony bites down on a groan of his own. He doesn't say anything – it doesn't seem like the time – just nuzzles the hair at the nape of Clint's neck until the Omega slowly relaxes back against him. After that, Tony drifts off for a while – he gets damn sleepy after sex that involves knotting, and Clint still smells like a god._  
  
 _He wakes when Clint carefully sits up, Tony's deflated knot slipping out with the movement. The Omega leaves the bed quietly and locks himself in the bathroom. Tony stretches, joints popping, and feels his inner Alpha hum contentedly. He's sweaty and sticky and he definitely needs a shower sooner rather than later, but right now, he can't muster up any shits to give. He likes sex, okay? Tony Stark really loves sex and Clint is good in bed even when he's trying to hold himself back._  
  
 _Tony's mind wonders idly about repeat performances and Tony shoves that part of his brain down to the murky depths where he keeps the other things labeled 'Things Tony Stark Can't Have'. Pepper is there, amongst a heap of other stuff Tony never lets himself think about._  
  
 _Clint is back sooner than Tony would think – less than five minutes later, if his inner clock isn't completely fried due to orgasms, and Tony doesn't think it is. The shower in there is big enough for two and the water pressure is perfect – obviously – and Tony wouldn't have faulted the archer for spending a good half hour in there, loosening his muscles with a water massage. But nope, Clint walks out, still silent as a prowling cat, still wet from the shower and wearing his old clothes instead of a towel. Tony half wants to feel offended at that – his towels are Egyptian cotton, for fuck's sake, and they aren't good enough for Agent Barton? - but then he notices Clint's posture. Tense and defensive, growing more defensive still when he notices that Tony's awake._  
  
“ _Hi, sorry,” Clint says. “I just –” he gestures vaguely at the bathroom door behind him. “Anyway, thanks a lot. I'll get out – I can deal with the next three days on my own.” He smiles at Tony; it looks brittle. “I really appreciate it, man.” When he heads towards the workshop, Tony can see darkened spots on his t-shirt and sweatpants from the water. Drops cling to his hair, which is sticking up in all kinds of directions._  
  
“ _Hey, wait,” Tony says and sits up in the bed, post-orgasm bliss dissipating like it was never there in the first place. “What?”_  
  
 _Clint's eyes flicker to every door in the room before he folds his arms across his chest. “I'm good now,” he says, voice even and flat and face expressionless. “It's – I just need the one – the one go before I'm back in my head. So I can take care of myself now.”_  
  
 _It should sound like a dismissal – the words are dismissive, for goddamn sure – but it doesn't. There's something halting about the words that makes them sound like excuses. Instead of 'I'd rather be alone for the rest, thanks', Clint's words come out like 'I don't want to intrude any more than I've already done'. Tony frowns._  
  
“ _Are you gonna skimp out on the post-coital cuddles?” He pouts dramatically and lies back down, folding his hands over his arc reactor. “I'm hurt, man. So very hurt.”_  
  
 _Clint blinks. He opens his mouth and Tony can see a 'what' forming, but then the archer frowns. “Hurt?”_  
  
“Wounded _, I tell you,” Tony says in a grave voice. If Clint really wants to be left alone, he can laugh it off and nothing more will come of it. If he doesn't..._  
  
 _Clint walks a few steps closer, tentative. “I wouldn't peg you for a cuddler, Stark,” he says._  
  
“ _What? It's totally my favorite part. Aside from the sex, obviously.”_  
  
 _Clint snorts a laugh, shakes his head. But he strips off his soggy shirt and sweats, so Tony calls it a win. “Never thought I'd_ cuddle _with Iron Man,” he mutters with a smile and slides underneath the covers. He's still damp from the shower, but Tony just wraps his limbs around the archer, doing his best octopus expression. “Fuck, clingy.” Clint laughs quietly._  
  
 _Tony isn't, really – not that much, at least. But Clint's scent flares up again and his body relaxes against Tony's, so the Alpha thinks to himself that Clint probably_ is _the clingy type. Tony doesn't much mind. It gives him a handy excuse to nuzzle Clint's skin, get as much of his Omega scent as possible; the familiar, personal smells mingling into something unmistakably_ Clint.  
  
 _Falling in love with the team marksman is probably a terrible idea, but Tony has several of those. This is nothing – it just means he has to expand his 'Things Tony Stark Can't Have' folder, that's all. It's not too bad. And he can't find himself caring even a little bit that he's fucked when Clint falls asleep in his arms, the furrow between his brows that seemed permanent finally smoothing out as the Omega snuffles against Tony's chest. His face is lit up by the reactor and he's the most gorgeous Omega Tony's ever seen._  
  
 _No biggie._  


~*~


	2. Chapter 2

"How do you feel about fruit salad later, sweetheart?" Steve asks Clint when the archer is all cleaned up, the Alpha still trailing his fingers up and down the Omega's thigh.

Clint's eyes flicker to Tony, who smiles and doesn't say anything. Heat is their opportunity to spoil Clint, because as much as their dynamic extends to outside heats and bedrooms, Clint never lets that shit fly unless he's under his pheromones' thrall.

"Whatever you want is good," Clint tries.

"Do you _want_ fruit salad, Clint?" Steve tries again, smiling slyly, not willing to let Clint shy away from the question.

Clint huffs and gives in. "Yes, sir- Steve. Fruit salad sounds good." He mutters it, and it would sound petulant – even bratty – if Tony and Steve didn't know their archer better than that by now. Clint still treats their sincere questions as potential traps sometimes; something that will get him punished if he gives them the wrong answer. Neither Tony nor Steve are big on punishment or pain, but it's obvious that _someone_ in Clint's past were, even if they haven't asked the Omega about it yet.

"Good boy," Tony says now, and Steve beams at the archer before he's off to take a shower and make them some food. "You ready for the next go?" Tony murmurs into Clint's ear and the other shivers.

"Yes, sir," Clint says, and there's an edge of humor there – smartassery that's Clinton Francis Barton from beginning to end – but Tony knows it's more genuine than not. Clint _likes_ saying 'sir' in bed when he can get away with it, just as he likes it when Tony calls him 'boy' and Steve gives him supposedly-emasculating pet names like 'sweetie' and 'honey'. None of these are things they'd ever get Clint to admit, but Tony's a genius and Steve's no idiot himself, so they figured it out pretty quickly.

Tony rolls on top of Clint, who huffs a laugh at the graceless movement. "Shut up, Barton," Tony smirks and nips at Clint's nose tip, who just laughs more. "Fucking brat," Tony says affectionately and kisses his Omega instead, Clint wrapping his legs around his Alpha's hips as easily as nothing.

They don't always have sex together, all three of them – sometimes they're in different countries, sometimes the timing or mood just doesn't fit. They make a point of being there all three when Clint first goes into heat, but the Alphas know that Clint will be exhausted, hungry and thirsty by the time he and Tony tie, and it's just easier for everyone involved if the third party fixes some food.

Clint is loose and full of Steve's come, but Tony still slides three fingers into him before anything else. It's got nothing to do with stretching and everything to do with watching Clint go crazy beneath and against him; quiet and still first, then beginning to move against Tony's fingers with small, punched exhales, before finally growing impatient and upgrading to small whines. Tony chuckles against his Omega's sweaty skin and Clint mumbles something incoherent and tries to glare.

"What's that, babe?" Tony chirps and twists his fingers. They squelch and Clint's muscles flutter around him, trying to draw him further in.

"Fffffuh," Clint says, going for a swear word but biting his lip before it can come out properly.

Tony laughs.

Clint quirks a smile, even as he keeps undulating his hips, his brows furrowed, trying to get _more_. "Such a dick, Tony," Clint groans.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetheart. Better make sure I keep my dick far away from you, then," Tony says easily and pulls his fingers out without warning. 

Clint _whines_ , loud and nearly unabashed, his eyes scrunching shut. " _Please_ ," he grits out, like it physically hurts to say the words, his hands fumbling for Tony, for grounding, for anything at all.

And Tony's an asshole, no doubt, but he loves this Omega, so he takes Clint's hands in his one of his own and pins them above Clint's head. With the other, he grabs a hold of his dick and steers himself into his archer's tight heat.

"Fuck, fuckfuckffffyyeeeah," Clint groans, his body welcoming Tony with familiar, tight warmth, his eyes flying open. 

Tony keeps going until he's as deep inside as he can get, his mouth hovering above the other's, both of them catching their breaths. Tony holds Clint's wrist still with one hand, and Clint's smile is soft and almost sappy.

The door opens, and their noses brush as the couple turn their heads. Steve walks in with a bowl in his hands, one he places on the night stand before sitting down on the other side of the bed. "By all means," he says with a crooked smile, "don't let me interrupt. I'm just enjoying the view."

Clint beams and Tony snaps his hips forward just to hear the high-pitched, surprised noise that escapes the Omega. "Not playing fair," Clint says through a bout of startled laughter, his hands curling and uncurling where Tony pins them.

"Oh, I'm _so sorry_ , Barton," Tony croons and sets up a punishing pace. He has to let Clint's wrists go in order to do it, his hands settling on Clint's hips instead, making fresh, small marks next to the Steve-shaped fingerprints there, but the other Alpha moves closer and takes Clint's wrists in his own hand to hold them where Tony did.

Like this, on his back, Tony can see every emotion that flickers across their Omega's face and it's fucking gorgeous. Bliss and want and lust and love and wonder and something so complex not even Tony knows what it is. Steve's by their side, a safe, heady presence for both of them, and the moment the soldier puts a hand on Clint's cock, the Omega's finished. He buckles and squeezes around Tony's knot with a hoarse groan. Tony starts to come just as Clint starts coming down from his own orgasm, the archer humming quietly as he's filled up once again. Steve frees his wrists and begins to card his fingers through Clint's sweat-soaked hair instead. Clint sighs and leans into the contact, eyes fluttering shut in blissful exhaustion.

Being tied together this way gives Clint a good excuse to tuck his head under his Alpha's chin – once they've gotten themselves a little more comfortable and settled on their side. Tony slides his arms around the other's waist and pulls him in, close, watching Steve who's still sitting a foot away. Tony arches an eyebrow, but Steve just smiles – waits for the moment that comes every time Clint's tied with one of them and the other one is near, but still out of reach.

Clint whimpers into the crook of Tony's neck, just once. It's enough.

"I'm here, sweetheart," Steve says and settles close to Clint's back, stroking along Clint's skin with serum-soft fingertips. He leans over and grabs the bowl, his hip settled against the small of Clint's back, and strokes Tony's cheek once with the back of his hand, stubble catching against the soft skin. Tony would growl, because it's so easy to see it as a condescending Alpha-bullshit gesture, but he bites back the initial instinct and smiles instead. This is all Steve, making sure Tony doesn't feel left out. It's kind of ridiculous, seeing as he's very literally inside Clint right now, but no less cute.

"Clint, would you like to eat a little now?" Steve asks.

Clint mumbles into Tony's neck, before he looks up at the ceiling. Tony doesn't lose the grip around Clint's middle and Clint's own arms are tucked between the two of them. "I could eat," the Omega says, which is Clint-speak for _jesus fuck, I'm starving._

"Open up," Steve says, and although his Alpha tendency is in every word now, mostly for Clint's benefit, Tony knows the Captain's also talking to him. He starts feeding them both bite-sized pieces of fruit; apple, orange, pineapple, watermelon, kiwi, blueberry. Watermelon is a particular favorite of Steve's, Tony knows, because it contains so much water. It's easy for Clint to eat while he's tied and lying down, and helps him stay hydrated without adding glasses of water to this whole thing.

Steve _rumbles_ while he feeds his little pack. Neither Tony nor Clint point it out – they don't think Steve notices – but it's a little like a cat's purr. It's endearing as all hell, and it never fails to loosen up every single muscle in Clint's body with the animal reassurance that _your Alphas are here, they're not going anywhere, you're safe._

"How you feeling, boy?" Tony murmurs when Steve's bowl is empty and the man himself has laid down against Clint's back. Tony's almost ready to pull out – sometimes this is enough, and sometimes Clint needs another go before his body lets him relax fully and sleep for the next twelve hours.

Tonight, though, Clint just sighs and closes his eyes; smiles tiredly. "Think I'm good."

"Good," Tony says, and Steve nuzzles Clint's neck before adding his own marks to the Omega. Clint keens and goes even more boneless, and Tony pulls himself out.

After another quick clean-up session, Tony decides to skip showering for now, and opts to help Steve tuck in their fatigued archer instead. They settle on each side of the Omega, who's already asleep, before kissing each other goodnight. Steve doesn't kiss like an Alpha – he kisses like a Beta, actually. Neither tentative nor demanding, just exploratory and sure with a hint of tongue and that earthy Alpha smell. Tony loses himself in it, lets exhaustion settle in his own bones, until they pull apart with a final sigh. Steve's eyes are half-lidded, in sleepiness more than pleasure this time, and they both turn their heads to look down at their Omega, sleeping safely between them.

"So beautiful," Steve says quietly and presses a kiss to Clint's brow before lying down. Tony places a kiss of his own to the archer's temple before settling. The other man doesn't even stir.

~*~

_“You... what?” Clint stares like Tony has just declared war on the entire human race or something._

_“I'd like to go on a date with you,” Tony repeats, and it sounds just as cheesy the second time around. “Or, I dunno, whatever will get me in your pants on a regular basis, I guess.” It's mostly teasing, but Clint doesn't stop looking like the sky's falling._

_“For – heats?” Clint tries, tentative and with a deep frown._

_“Well, I don't know, sure,” Tony says and shrugs. “But that's only, like, four times a year even if you don't stay on suppressants, which – that is so not my business, so I'm not gonna touch that one – and no, not mainly for heats.” Tony shoves his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, which, okay, sue him if it looks like a defensive gesture. Tony doesn't really do the whole dating thing, but Clint smells like heaven and he's cool and hot and a hell of a lot smarter than most people give him credit for. And he's lonely. Clint's lonely in that vague, pretty-easy-to-hide way that Tony's maybe a little bit lonely too._

_Clint is still staring. “..._ why _?” he asks, finally, like he can't fathom why Tony would want to stick around for a longer period than three heat-filled days._

_“Um, you want a list?” Tony says. “Because sure, I can do that, JARVIS has it around here somewhere – hey, Jarv, that list-”_

_“No, I mean-” Clint interrupts him, a complicated expression on his face. Like he doesn't know whether to laugh or be upset or flattered or what the fuck. Tony recognizes the feeling. “Seriously?”_

_“I've actually been looking for a bond-mate for a while now,” Tony says with a shrug, and doesn't say_ 'since New York' _because that wouldn't help any of them. “Just... someone compatible to me, I guess, who won't get fed up with my bullshit and won't let me get away with it all the time.” He rubs his neck and feels how heated it is. Fuck it. “Thing is, Barton – I'm kinda in love with you in that whole Harlequin Omega book kind of way, and since I haven't been like that a lot of times and you don't actually seem to hate my guts, I thought. Y'know. Give it a shot.” Tony grins and his face hurts. “Please don't punch me. I might take it personally.”_

_Clint's eyes are round and huge and a muddled blue – nothing like the bright-light azure of Loki's mind-control. “You... want to lock me in this tower and breed me?” he asks, a distinct edge of displeasure in his voice now._

_“_ What? _” Then Tony remembers that particular brand of Omega novels and slaps a palm against his face. “No, no – Jesus, no. Nothing like that, Clint – no. No.”_

_The corners of Clint's mouth quirk upwards at Tony's adamant refusal._

_“No, I mean the whole... mark and claim you, make you breakfast in the mornings, growl at other Alphas who fuck with you... that whole awkward... thing,” Tony says with a flourish and grimaces. He is the_ worst _at love declarations, honestly._

_Clint snorts. “You know I'd kill you if you actually did that, right? Went Alpha-male on my ass in public?”_

_“Yeah, I know.” Tony lets out a very un-Alpha-like giggle and looks up at the archer. “That's another reason I want to keep you.”_

_Clint's face changes at that word, and he actually takes a small step back. He's back to dumbfounded._

_“Is that – that's a no-no word, isn't it?” Tony asks, wanting to get closer to the Omega, put a hand on his shoulder or arm and just – just pulls him into an embrace or something cheesy like that. “It is. I'm sorry.”_

_“No, no, it's-” Clint sucks in a breath. “Just – haven't heard someone say that about me before.” He doesn't say_ ever _but he doesn't need to, and the wolf that resides in the deep of Tony's chest growls with displeasure._

_“That they wanna keep you?”_

_A jerky nod._

_“Well, I'd like to. If you'd let me.” Tony gnaws on his lip and watches the absolute stillness that is Clint Barton deep in thought._

_“I don't... get it,” Clint says finally, heartbreakingly honest before he lets out a lost laugh. “Fuck, Coulson would have a field day if he saw this.” He rubs his eyes._

_“Why?” Tony dares to take a couple of steps towards the Omega._

_“He'd always – he never stopped feeding me the whole bond-mate bullshit,” Clint says hoarsely, his smile tight and ugly. “I was gonna find someone awesome who'd – who'd.”_

_“Keep you.”_

_Clint sighs. “Wonder how he'd feel if he knew it was Stark who asked?” He doesn't look at Tony, and his eyes are far away._

_“I like to think he would approve,” Tony says with a shrug. “And then give me a shovel talk so thorough I would've peed my pants on pure principle.”_

_Clint laughs shakily._

_Tony's close enough to touch now, but he doesn't. Keeps his hands in his pockets and tries to catch the archer's eyes. If his heart's thundering, well, Clint probably doesn't know. “What's the verdict, Merida?”_

_Clint looks up at him. “Hell, why not,” he says easily, and Tony doesn't mention the tremble in his voice or the hopeful glint in his eyes._

_“Awesome,” Tony says and closes the distance._

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the wonderful feedback on the first chapter; I'm pretty new at this genre, so it's great to know you like it:)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Clint and Tony (and Natasha) get beat up a little in this one - nothing worse than a run-of-the-mill mission, but it creates complications. Also warnings for hiding injuries (Tony), and a brief contemplation of mpreg as a possibility in this universe.

Tony opts for making breakfast the next morning, while Steve and Clint fuck in their bedroom. Tony isn't particularly skilled in the kitchen, but he does know how to make breakfast foods without burning down the building, so he fixes his pack some omelets with bacon on the side and warms ciabattas in the oven. There's some fruit left in the fridge and he mixes it into a bowl of whole-grain cereal, knowing it to be Steve's favorite. By the time he's done, there's enough food on the kitchen table to feed six grown men – which is perfect, because Steve's metabolism forces him to eat more than double the amount of food of a normal guy. He even eats more than Thor.

When he turns off the oven, he keeps the ciabattas inside so they'll stay hot. Placing the omelets in a clay pot and covering it with a lid, he knows they won't go cold either, in case his guys need a little more time.

Slipping back into the bedroom, Tony grins when he sees the other two curled up and very obviously post-coital. Clint blinks up at him, shit-eating grin softened by his bright eyes, and Tony can't help but crawl onto the bed and press kisses all along Clint's jaw and mouth. “Morning,” he murmurs and Clint sighs in reply.

“It smells like fresh bread,” Steve says. “You made actual breakfast this time?” He smiles widely.

“Screw you, Captain,” Tony says and bites Steve's lip in retaliation, if not in domination. Steve laughs into the kiss, one hand settling on Tony's neck and squeezing a little. An unspoken _you did good_ that makes Tony's inner Alpha huff in indignation, but makes the rest of him – maybe especially that little kid who made himself a robot at the age of six in the hope that it would make his father say he was proud of him – thrum with happiness.

“Ciabattas,” he says and Clint makes a nerdy little whooping noise – they're his favorite and Tony knows that very well, thanks. “They'll stay warm for a while longer.”

“We're almost done here,” Steve murmurs and nips the dip of Clint's shoulder just to see the other shiver.

“Do I have time for a shower?” Tony asks.

“Mmm,” Clint says and draws circles with his fingertip on Tony's hip, where his t-shirt rides up enough to reveal a sliver of bare skin. “Yeah, you could shower.” It's sly enough that the hidden meaning is crystal clear, but the teasing edge is all deflection. Even now, Clint doesn't ask his Alphas to stick around. Ever.

So Tony decides to shower after breakfast – or possibly with the rest of his pack – and curls up close to his Omega instead. Clint's low, happy rumbling and Steve's brilliant smile is more than enough to wipe any lingering doubts from Tony's mind.

~*~

_Even with a team of superheroes and SHIELD having their backs, some missions are just clusterfucks from one end to the other. By the time HYDRA's Umeå labs are down and the clean-up and debrief can start, Hulk is the only one not battered halfway to hell. Natasha and Clint are both in Medical, Steve's injuries haven't had time to fix themselves yet, Tony's suit is a bust and he's sporting a broken wrist in addition to several cracked ribs and a swollen eye. Even Thor's bruised and bloody, and Tony's pretty dead certain that not all the blood is from his enemies this time._

_Debrief is a mercifully short thing for now; Fury only goes through the most important stuff before they're all made to go to Medical for a check-up. Tony has no intention of letting anyone know about the ribs, but he needs to get his wrist splintered and check up on Clint. His cycle's almost up, and Clint's heats tends to move around a little within a five-day time frame._

_Tony isn't sure how he's supposed to go through several bouts of exhaustive sex with a couple of fractured ribs, but he's had worse. It's not a big deal._

_Clint is still unconscious when Tony's gotten his eye and wrist fixed (and managed to keep the rib issue a secret, because it won't do to be put on leave when his boy's approaching heat) and enters the hospital room. He fell off a building again; it's hardly the first time. Tony had freaked the fuck out until they'd gotten Clint here and they told him Clint was going to be fine – that he's just hit his head pretty hard and bruised something like half his body._

_Natasha's in the other bed in the room, and awake. She's reading a thin pocket book, and Tony has no idea where she's gotten that from in here. It looks well-worn and Tony can't see what the full title is, only one word that's... French? Huh._

_“How are you feeling?” he says and she just shrugs. Her entire left leg's in a cast and her face is tight, not with pain but with annoyance. Tony gets it. “Good book?” he asks instead of prying about her medical condition, because he's not a doctor and it's just bad form when he's still walking._

_She replies in French, which of course goes right over Tony's head, and quirks a thin smile. “I've read it before.”_

_“Uh-huh, sounds cool,” Tony says and manages not to roll his eyes._

_“Go be with your boy and stop annoying me, Stark,” she says, almost softly. He does, but she doesn't get to go back to her book – Steve walks through the door just as Tony sits down by Clint's bedside._

_“Bruce is still sleeping and Thor is getting medical attention,” the Captain says to no one in particular, and nobody acknowledges him. “Agent, are you alright?” he asks Natasha, even though the huge, white cast is a pretty good indication that she's not._

_“Fractured in two places, expected recovery time ten weeks,” she says in a deliberately absent voice, flicking open her book and ignoring the rest of the people in the room. Natasha doesn't get 'prickly', she's too professional for that, but Steve still takes the hint and turns to Tony._

_“I heard – he's going to be fine?” Steve asks and walks up to Clint's bed, eyes roaming over the medical equipment attached to the archer._

_“Yeah, he'll be right as rain,” Tony says and smiles, though he doesn't manage to keep it genuine. Clint's just starting to permeate – he always smells wonderful, but now his scent is taking on that alluring edge that signals his heat approaching, and Tony's getting a little antsy with another Alpha so close by. Even if Steve isn't giving off any tendencies right now._

_Steve nods and doesn't move. “And you?”_

_“I'm fine, Cap. Just a broken wrist.” Tony makes sure not to shift; Steve's an attentive guy and Tony knows he'll notice if Tony starts wincing in pain._

_Steve frowns, just a little, but doesn't say anything. For a little while, all they can hear are the sounds of Clint's heart monitor, and the occasional rustle as Natasha flips the pages of her book. Then Clint groans, barely, and his eyes start to flicker._

_“It's aliiiive,” Tony says, going for dramatic and ending up with fond._

_“Is that Frankenstein?” Steve asks, and looks delighted. Tony doesn't know if he's more happy that Clint's waking up, or that he got this reference._

_“F'ck off, T'ny,” Clint groans and blinks his eyes open. They're swimming, but still settle on him easily; not on the good drugs, then. Just on the usual painkillers._

_“Aww, feel the love in this room,” Tony snarks, which is pretty much code for him to tell Clint that it's cool, he's alright. There's nothing seriously wrong with him._

_“Mmm,” Clint says, before his eyes find Captain America. “Cap, we good?”_

_“Agent Romanoff broke her leg and Stark here broke his wrist,” Steve says – and his eyes linger on Tony in a way that lets Tony know the fucker probably suspects about his ribs anyway, dammit – and smiles. “But other than that, everyone's alive and accounted for. How are you feeling?”_

_Clint laughs, raspy and gravel-like, and it makes him wince. “Like I just fell off another fucking building.” He shifts and grimaces. “Nothing broken, though, I think?”_

_“Not that Medical could see, no,” Tony says and while they're not really out-and-proud, though they're not entirely secret either, he can't help but drag his fingers through the archer's hair. Clint looks surprised at the PDA, but pleased. His scent spikes in a decidedly affectionate way, and Tony chuckles even if_ citrusmotoroildisinfectant _attacks his senses and makes him want to growl fondly._

_Steve stumbles back a step, and that makes both Tony and Clint frown and turn their attention to the soldier. “Captain?” Clint asks, both his voice and essence spiking with worry. “Is everything okay?”_

_“Yes,” Steve says, too quickly, and blinks a couple of times before he rubs a hand across his face._

_“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Tony points out, and Steve actually grimaces._

_“No. I mean, yes, but – I'm fine, Barton,” he sighs and offers them both a lopsided smile. “It's just – you just – smell very good. I'm sorry.”_

_And Tony can get behind that sentiment like nobody else, that's not it – but Steve getting that glazed look on his face? That does make him growl. It's quiet and he smothers it almost immediately, but Clint glares daggers at him anyway._

_“Tony, fuck off.”_

_“I know, sorry. Habit.” Tony offers the Captain an apologetic pseudo-smile, and Steve takes a few more steps back._

_“No, no – I apologize, I know you're bonded,” Steve says. Tony barely registers that Natasha's stopped reading and is now watching them all with a dangerous grin. “I didn't mean to – I'm not trying to make trouble,” Steve says, unbearably honest, like he thinks that's where Tony's mind would automatically go. (Which okay, so maybe that_ was _where it automatically went, but Tony knows better. Come on. It's_ Captain America. _)_

_“It's cool, Steve,” Clint says, still lying down in the bed, and Tony blinks at the use of the guy's first name. “Not a big deal. I'm, I dunno, flattered or something.” He smiles, and it's a self-deprecating thing, like he thinks it's hilarious that more than one person would find his scent pleasing – which makes Tony want to growl for an entirely different reason._

_“I'll go check on Thor,” Steve says haltingly, and nods to all three of them before leaving the room. When Tony looks over at Natasha, she's smirking._

_“What?” he says._

_She pointedly goes back to her book and doesn't answer. Tony kind of hates her. (Tony kind of loves her.)_

_Clint's eyes are fluttering shut, but when his fingers twitch, Tony grabs his hand for comfort. In the privacy of his mind, he wonders if Coulson used to do that, all the countless times he would sit with Clint in the hospital after an op._

_“I'm a day early,” Clint mumbles without opening his eyes, his brows furrowing._

_“Kinda noticed. It's cool. Just sleep this off and we'll go home,” Tony says and turns in his chair, making sure not to wince when the movement jostles his fractured ribs. Two, maybe three, he decides. Oh, heat's going to be a fun thing._

_Clint opens his eyes to stare at him. “How's that gonna work with your ribs?”_

_“... What?”_

_Clint gives him the slightly-drugged out version of his 'bitch, please' look. “You're with the guy who used to hide broken bones from Medical for a living until Ph- Coulson started threatening me with no heat help if I didn't let them patch me up. Don't even fucking try, Tony.”_

_Tony sighs. “It's not a big deal.”_

_“Um, yeah, it kind of is. You're not knotting anyone like that,” Clint says with the shadow of a smile on his pale face. “It's cool. I've still got toys. I can use them on myself; it wouldn't be the first time.”_

_Tony is painfully aware that Natasha's only a few feet away, undoubtedly getting this entire conversation, but forces himself to not give a shit. He knows she and Clint have a long history, even if they've never been together like that outside missions. This can't be news to her. “I could help,” he says instead._

_Clint smirks. “With three broken ribs and a fucked-up wrist? Yeah, no. Thanks for the offer, but you're off the hook, Tony.” His eyes slide shut again, though he still fights to stay awake, Tony sees._

_He bends forward and kisses Clint's temple. “One day I'll convince you there's no fucking hook, Barton.”_

_Clint's forehead smooths out, but all he says is “That ain't today, sir,” before he goes slack and his breathing deep and even._

_Tony sighs and continues to card his good hand through his Omega's hair. When he feels eyes on his back, he turns to look at Natasha. “What?”_

_She just smiles at him._

_“You want to help him out, that it?” Tony asks – or maybe grouses. It doesn't matter that it wasn't his decision or fault – his Alpha self fucking_ hates _not being there for his Omega._

 _“You know I don't,” she says without any heat, fingers holding her battered book open._ Le Petit Prince _, he sees now, and maybe it shouldn't surprise him but it does._

_“Then what's with the 'Scooby Doo, we got work to do' face?” Tony says._

_Natasha doesn't say anything. However, her eyes flicker between Clint's sleeping form and the door leading to the hospital hallway, one perfect eyebrow arching a fraction._

_It should really worry Tony that after only six months of working with the Black Widow, he already understands what she's implying. “What? Bullshit. He'd never go for it.”_

_“I didn't say anything,” Natasha says, almost sing-songs, and goes back to her book._

_Tony stares at Clint's face and wonders._

~*~

“ _Chia, chi-chiabattaaa_ ,” Clint sings as they stumble from the bathroom to the kitchen still damp from their shared shower, swinging his hips in time with the music in his head. “ _Music and fashion is always the passion..._ ” he trails off into whistles, settling on his special chair by their round, sturdy living room table. (Tony knows it's sturdy because he knows it won't break if Clint's getting pounded on it. Quality is very important to Tony.) Clint's chair is special because the seat of it has a deep, soft pillow that moulds around his ass. It's proven invaluable on mid-heat mornings when Clint is particularly sore, especially because it's machine-washable.

Clint sinks onto the oak chair with a sigh and folds his arms across his stomach. It's a gesture that makes Tony's paternal Alpha instincts perk up in something weirdly like hope, but the rest of him waves the Alpha off. Clint's been on the pill since long before they even met, and he's not getting off it any time soon. This is no time or place for a kid; aside from the fact that Tony would be a terrible father, they are all superheroes. It's unlikely that Tony and Clint will even approach old age – although Steve's got a better shot, super-healing and all.

Still, something stirs in Tony when he sees Clint like that. Wonders, for a brief moment, what it would be like if they weren't... well, who they were. What they were.

Tony lets the wayward thought go and brings the ciabattas out from the oven, while Steve gets plates and cutlery. Clint perches on his large, comfy chair, watching them with an air of exasperation. Tony knows a part of Clint hates just _sitting_ there, not doing anything while his Alphas dote on him, but Steve's enforced a ruthless Clint-pamper policy when their boy's in heat, and Clint knows better than to 'get written up for insubordination', as Steve sometimes jokes. Tony's still amazed that Steve can joke about their jobs, but apparently, Steve has layers.

“Here you go,” Steve says and pours Clint a glass of grapefruit juice, before kissing the back of the archer's head. Steve sits down on Clint's left, Tony on his right, both of them pressing a leg against one of Clint's. The second and third days of Clint's heat aren't bad; his hormones generally stop giving him hell as soon as he's been knotted. They still know the Omega tends to be calmer, less fidgety, if his Alphas stay within touching distance.

Breakfast is a mostly quiet affair. Tony tries to leave SI work alone when he's on heat leave, but he still checks his emails on his tablet while he eats. JARVIS would let them all know if there was something urgent, but Tony likes to stay somewhat on top of his work while he's off, so he doesn't get slapped in the face with reality once he goes back out there. Steve reads the New York Times on actual paper, because once Tony realized that he'd never convert the 80-year old to e-reading, he'd set up a daily newspaper delivery to the Tower.

Clint mostly shoves food into his mouth like he's getting paid for it, still humming _Copacabana_ under his breath and swaying on his chair. They would get punched in the face if they told the Omega out loud what an adorable sight he makes, but Tony still sees Steve's eyes soften when they glance at the archer.

“What?” Clint says with his mouth full, glaring a little. It's mostly a warning; Clint knows exactly what Steve's thinking. Steve is somewhat of an open book unless he deliberately tries to play it cool, and he's not now – Alpha content radiating from his every pore, letting them all know how pleased he is that Clint is healthy and happy.

Their instincts are all sappy, really – that's the big secret. Only difference is that Steve doesn't bother to hide his, most of the time.

“Shuddup,” Clint mutters and shoves another forkful of omelette and bacon into his mouth. Tony chuckles and Clint kicks his chin in retaliation – too gentle.

Steve deposits Clint on the huge-ass couch in front of the TV once they're all done, Clint so full he's almost waddling. He flops onto the deep, giving cushions with a groan so appreciative it borders on sexual, and judging by the smirk he gives them, Clint is highly aware of that particular fact. Tony and Steve bustle in the kitchen – Tony packs up the leftovers and puts them in the fridge for Steve to snack later, while the good Captain loads up the dish washer, his favorite machine in Tony's house – and when they're done, they settle against the couch cushions and their archer as well. Clint's smell is spiking – not in arousal, not yet, but his Omega instincts are begging for some touch and closeness even if Clint would never vocalize it.

Steve stretches out on one end, propping a few decorative (purple) pillows behind his back. When he opens his arms and lets his Alpha aroma waft over the both of them, Clint doesn't even bother to rumble; he just shuffles over and curls up against the Captain's chest, his legs between Steve's. It's a regular set-up and Tony joins immediately, lying down against – almost on top of – Clint, pressed between the Omega and the back of the couch. Like this, Tony gets to prop his head on Clint's chest and still see the TV, and Clint melts against the both of them.

They settle on _Gossip Girl_. It's Clint's day, after all.

~*~

_Tony talks to the nurses while Clint sleeps. They're required to keep him overnight for observation, which should work without too much trouble, since Clint's heat is just starting up. Tony needs to stay in the room, though – preferably with a hand on Clint's arm or chest; some skin-on-skin contact to soothe the Omega's hormones._

_They manage to get Clint a single room, just in case. There's a separate ward for hospitalized Omegas in heat – if they get it early enough and their condition allows it, they can be put on suppressants. Once they start up, though, all bets are off. It's too late for Clint; they'll have to muster through it._

_By the time Clint opens his eyes again, six hours have come and gone, and they're in their new, private room. “Tasha?” Clint asks when he looks around._

_“They gave us a separate room,” Tony says. “She's okay.” He's holding Clint's hand, which seems to be enough for now, and Clint nods and relaxes. No doctors have found out about his busted ribs yet, and he's glad Natasha didn't rat him out. They throb like a motherfucker, but that's to be expected, and Tony managed to wrap some gauze he stole from a utility closet around his chest earlier._

_“Ugh,” Clint says and turns his head toward Tony. “I'm getting outta here soon, right? There's nothing really wrong with me, I just_ fell. _”_

_“You survived a two-story drop without a single broken bone, Barton,” Tony says, softer than he intended. “They're keeping you overnight for observation and you're shutting up about going home early.”_

_Clint huffs and shifts, restless. “Gonna be a mess by the time we're home,” he says quietly._

_“I know.” He looks at their hands and wonders how to breach the subject that's been circling around his brain for the last few hours. “Um, I got a question for you.”_

_Clint must notice his tone, because his gaze sharpens with forced focus. “Yeah?”_

_“Are you into Steve?” Ladies and gentlemen, behold Tony Stark, the sweet-talker of this century. You'd think they were thirteen-year olds discussing their first crush._

_Clint blinks at him, eyes wide. He looks more like an owl than a hawk right now, Tony thinks absently and almost laughs. “The hell, Tony?”_

_“Come on, it's not_ that _weird a question.” Tony waggles his eyebrows to deflate the sudden, cloying tension in the room._

_“Um, yeah, kinda is,” Clint says, but he stops looking skittish – like it's a trick question. “Why?”_

_“I just, well, you saw Cap earlier,” Tony says with a shrug. “Almost face-planting on account of your_ delish _aroma.”_

_Clint rolls his eyes, but he looks a little pleased, too. Like an early version of flattered._

_“I'm just saying, I don't think the guy would say no if you wanted to hook up with him, is all,” Tony finishes and Clint's face falls._

_“But I'm bonded,” he says, and it's so much more tentative than it should be – almost a question. Like he thinks this is a rejection; a break-up. “To you.”_

_Tony can feel and smell his sudden uncertainty as much as he can hear it in Clint's voice, and it pisses him off how bad a job he's doing at reassuring his Omega. “Damn right you are,” he says and leans forward to claim Clint's mouth – not roughly, just enough that there's no doubt of Tony's interest. “And that's not going to change,” Tony adds when he pulls back. He doesn't do promises because he's shit at keeping them, but this is close enough._

_Clint looks a little flushed. “Then why the mind games?”_

_“No mind games, I promise,” he says and disentangles their fingers so he can stroke Clint's cheek. “But I'm a little... handicapped right now.” Tony waves his other arm lightly, wincing when that movement alone jars his sprained wrist. “And I don't want you to go through three whole days of mind-numbing heat, just because you'll be too gone to use a proper knotting dildo by yourself and I can't help.”_

_“I'll manage,” Clint snaps, more automatic than anything else, because they both know that he really can't. Not for that first time, at least. “I- it's not a big deal, Tony, seriously. It's only three days.”_

_“But it's three days of watching you be miserable and out of your mind,” Tony sighs and drops a kiss to his Omega's brow. “I'd rather let Captain America help out, if you both want. And I really think Steve wants.” He fights the current of jealousy running through his mind; he might be bonded to Clint, but he doesn't own him. Nobody gets to own Clint but the archer himself, and Tony can be generous. Sometimes. Honestly._

_“But-” Clint leans into the touch, though he still looks confused as hell. “He wouldn't – Steve isn't the type to...”_

_“I don't know,” Tony muses. “We don't actually know that. We've never asked the guy, for sure. Maybe he could be?” He looks down at the archer._

_“Are you seriously suggesting I cheat on you with Captain America?” Clint says, deadpan._

_“Not cheat, stupid.” Tony grins. “I was thinking more of an unofficial threesome.”_

_Clint blinks. Blinks again. Then he starts laughing. “You kinky motherfucker.”_

_“_ What? _I'm being_ helpful _,” Tony says with a mock-pout. “Being a good boyfriend and Alpha. Actually, I might argue for the best.”_

_“Yeah, you're a regular Jean D'arc,” Clint snorts, but he shifts onto his side carefully so he can curl up close to the Alpha. “You really serious, Tony?”_

_“Mmmyeah, I think I am, actually,” Tony says and nuzzles Clint's hairline, the Omega letting out a shiver. “I might not be the same brand of fanboy that Agent... was, but I can't argue that Steve's ass is one of the best things the 40's produced.”_

_Clint chortles. “Yeah, I – yeah, okay.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Yeah.” Clint arches his neck and Tony dips down for another kiss._

_“If you decide to elope with Cap, though, I'll kill you both,” Tony says lightly, before tilting his head. “Okay, no. Just maim, I think. Though I can't vouch for JARVIS; he's got a vicious streak.”_

_Clint grins, his eyes twinkling. “Not a chance, Tony. I'm staying right here.”_

_Tony grumbles happily and stays close for another minute or five. “Okay. I'll be right back. Gonna  
try and find Cap – I'm sure he's still around here somewhere, fretting over his team.”_

_“Be back soon,” Clint says, and it's not so much a romantic thing as it's a warning. Tony nods and pulls back, and Clint's face immediately flushes a little as his heat symptoms resurface._

~*~


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: I don't know, porn? Idek. There's so much porn. (I don't even _write_ porn what is this buggery)
> 
> Also, there is a brief mention of a painful side effect of heat, but it's only mentioned and it doesn't happen to Clint.

Somewhere between the third and the fifth episode of _Gossip Girl_ , they can tell that Clint's attention changes to something... else. He's not quite rutting, not yet, but he _is_ shifting with more and more intent and frustration. Tony smirks at Steve, their archer between them, and fakes a concerned look. “What's wrong, Clint? You not feeling good?”

“Screw you, Tony, I'm not begging,” Clint huffs, his hands skimming Tony's sides but not actively trying to get his clothes off. Yet.

“But you beg so pretty,” Tony says, although he leans down and captures the Omega's mouth before Clint can mouth off again at him. Steve chuckles warmly and starts sliding Clint's t-shirt upwards and off, Tony leaning back to let the good Captain work. Clint is still half-lying on Steve, with Tony on the top, but Steve doesn't seem to mind the position and Tony knows he can take their weight. So he doesn't pull off; just scrambles out of his own pants and tee while Steve helps Clint out of his clothes, pressing kisses and gentle bites everywhere he can reach. Clint isn't strung-up from the heat anymore, just loose-limbed and happy, and he slides his arms around Tony's waist as soon as they're both naked.

Tony deliberately moves his head past Clint's, not giving him the kiss he's hoping for – instead landing one on Steve's soft lips. Steve grumbles happily at that, rubbing the tip of his nose against Tony's before leaning back to watch the show.

Sometimes they both take Clint at the same time. It's not often, and their boy needs a _lot_ of prep before it can get to that point, but it's so worth it. Clint's euphoric face and tight body, feeling Steve against Tony – there's nothing quite like it. Tony wishes they could do it now, during heat, when Clint's body is even more pliant than usual and his pheromones would make it easier to deal with the initial discomfort, but no can do. It's those same pheromones that trigger Steve and Tony's knots, and no matter how stretched Clint would be, he can't take two knots at the same time. It would just be uncomfortable and unfulfilling for everyone involved.

Then again, Tony gets to fuck Clint while he's lying on Cap. That's a pretty awesome next-best-thing.

~*~

_“What?” Steve stares at them both, slack-jawed. “I mean –_ what _?”_

_“I'm going into heat,” Clint repeats, voice and demeanor calm even though Tony can smell nervousness all over him. It's kind of adorable. “I – we were wondering if you'd like to help me out. Tony's kind of...”_

_“Indisposed,” Tony finishes._

_Steve doesn't stop staring, and his cheeks turn a charming shade of light pink, but he's not running and he doesn't look pissed off, so Tony counts it a partial win. “Why – why me?” he asks, and looks surprised by his own question._

_“Because you're Steve Rogers,” Clint says, just as Tony says “Because Barton's got a crush on you.”_

_“What?” Clint says. “I don't!” He looks and smells flustered, all of a sudden, with an underlying embarrassed tang, and Tony wants to laugh but he's not asshole enough to actually do it. Instead he smirks at his Omega and turns to Steve, who's looking a little dazed. Hmm, looks like the Captain picked up on that too._

_“But you guys are bonded,” Steve says and makes a vague gesture with his hands. “I can't – I don't want to ruin that.”_

_“Weeeell, you're lucky my mother told me how important it is to share, then,” Tony teases and trails his hand up Clint's bare arm; the archer has started to shake a little again, with the amount of Alpha in the room._

_“I-” Steve blinks. “Share?”_

_Clint's smile is as close to shy as it ever gets, and Tony takes a moment to nuzzle the side of his head before turning back to Steve. “If you'd want to do this – help out – I'd be there,” Tony explains. “I'm – the thought of leaving you alone with him makes me a little twitchy, to be honest.” Clint snorts and Tony pokes him in the ribs. “But he's gonna have a nightmare heat if someone doesn't take care of him, and... well, I trust you, Cap. We both do. You'll still be in charge, I'll just be there as a... I dunno. Buoy.”_

_Clint nods and smiles at Steve, still leaning against Tony. In just under five hours, they can go home._

_Steve looks between the two of them for a while, not saying a word. He's carefully holding his Alpha scent back, Tony notices; trying hard not to seem like a threat. It's kind of cute._

_“I haven't... it's been a while,” Steve says finally and quirks an embarrassed smile at them. Tony (and probably Steve) notices the cloud of aroused hope that emanates from Clint at that, and chuckles. No crush, yeah right._

_“Don't worry, Rogers. I'll be there every step of the way,” Tony says. Clint makes a small, pleased sound that makes Steve's eyes darken by a fraction._

_“Then I guess... yes?” Steve says._

~*~

He stretches Clint while Steve touches the Omega; teasing, almost idle. _Gossip Girl_ is still going in the background, though no one's paying attention to the on-screen drama anymore. Steve skims his fingers over Clint's stomach and chest, tweaks a nipple to watch the archer buck up against Tony's fingers in him. The Captain scratches gently at the trail of hair beneath Clint's navel, following it down to the Omega's crotch, and rests his hand there. Doesn't move, doesn't wrap around Clint; just stays still, a warm, grounding touch as Tony does his best to make Clint crazy long before there are any dicks involved.

Despite his adamant claims earlier, Clint _is_ begging by the time Tony flips him over, lines up, and pushes in. Steve traces the shell of Clint's ear with his tongue and Tony knows that Clint's brain is frying from the assault to his senses. Apart from the sheer hotness of watching Clint fall apart before getting knotted, it's also kind of hilarious. Clint is a well put-together guy for the most part, even more so due to his SHIELD training, and it's a wonderful boost to Tony's already well-developed ego to see him come undone like this.

Tony sneaks in a few more kisses with the Captain while he's at it, Clint latching onto the other Alpha's clavicle; not so much biting as hanging on, breathing sharply against the Alpha's skin in time with Tony's thrusts. Steve rests a hand on Clint's neck, sure and easy, and feeds Tony air when he presses breathy kisses to to the Captain's lips.

“Clint,” Steve murmurs, just a hint of Alpha in his voice, and squirms a hand between their bodies. 

Clint bucks up against Tony through a harsh gasp, squeezing around him, and when Tony dislodges from Steve's mouth and bites down on the dip between his Omega's neck and shoulder, Clint is _gone_.

Steve grins at Tony, who barely notices as his own orgasm washes over him. Steve, still smiling way too innocently for the situation, moves his other hand from Clint's neck to Tony's. He brings their foreheads together for a moment, his eyes so fond and happy it's ridiculous, and murmurs “You're gorgeous like this.”

Tony closes his eyes and lets his head thunk down between Clint's shoulder blades, the Omega mewling quietly under him. “You're killing me here, Steve,” he groans and feels Clint shudder with laughter.

“I know, Tony,” Steve murmurs, not apologetic at all.

~*~

_By the time they're allowed to leave Medical, Clint is a sweating mess and Steve has to help him keep upright. The nurses had tried to put him in a wheelchair to make it easier on him, and Clint's adamant and growled refusal had surprised absolutely no one. Tony wants to bristle because another Alpha is helping_ his _Omega, but he's still pretending that his ribs aren't busted, and Clint hanging onto his side would sell Tony out in a minute, he knows that. So he keeps his working hand on Clint's neck, not squeezing, just hovering, as they leave and get into the limousine outside._

_“Really, Tony?” Steve says, but he barely bothers to sound chiding._

_“Are you surprised, Rogers? Are you?” Tony nods a hello to Happy, who grins at all of them but sends Clint a sympathetic look. According to Pep, Happy's heats suck – he's one of those Omegas whose heats fight their own bodies, who get sick rather than turned on. Tony's got a small part of SI R &D working on a suppressant that would work for those Omegas, since the normal suppressants on the market don't do jack shit. Still, Happy gets two weeks off every heat to get time to get back on his feet, and Tony makes sure that Pepper get at least a week and a half of those days off with him._

_As terrible a boss as Tony is, he's actually a pretty decent friend._

_Clint takes a turn for the worse in the car. Happy keeps the screen up to give the three of them a semblance of privacy, but Clint's heat has increased for the last few hours and by now he's pretty out of it and desperate – to the point where it's hurting him. He won't be_ damaged _, nothing remotely dangerous or permanent will happen if he doesn't get knotted in the near future, but it's bad enough by now that he's starting to make quiet, pained noises under his breath. His eyes are heavy-lidded and blood-shot. He hides his face between Tony's shoulder and the seat, his breath shallow, and Tony appreciates that he doesn't wrap himself around his Alpha even though he clearly wants to. It hurts Tony that he can't soothe his Omega, but he knows it would be worse – and more literally painful – if he let the archer hug his fractured ribs._

_“I'm-” Steve looks conflicted and worried, but he's looked like that since they reached hour six and Clint started shivering for real. “I could – if you're okay with it, I could see if he reacted to my smell,” he says to Tony, before his eyes flicker back to the Omega. “I mean – if you're both okay with it.”_

_Tony doesn't particularly_ want _to – there's more than a slight chance his own Alpha instincts will blow the fuck up at the blatant attempt to 'steal' something that's his – but they're running out of options that'll keep Clint somewhat okay until they reach home. So he nods, curtly, when Clint doesn't shake his head. Clint is beyond words for now, but Tony trusts him to let his Alpha know if there's something going on that he's really not okay with._

 _Then there's a strong, heady, slightly sweet scent spreading through the back seat; it's familiar, Tony's been around Steve enough to grow somewhat accustomed to it. He's just not used to the_ punch _it has. It completely overwhelms – not only Tony's scent but even Clint's, and the smells from the car around them – until Tony feels almost dizzy with it, and he realizes that Steve's been holding back._

 _That Steve's_ always _holding back._

_Clint whimpers and shudders, but leans back enough to look up at Tony. His eyes are swimming and fever-shiny, but Tony still sees the unspoken question, and he leans over – ignores the twinge of pain – and kisses the archer. “Go on.”_

_Steve's scent is so strong that it's a wonder Tony can't_ see _it, but strangely enough, it doesn't make his instincts go all crazy. Instead, he... calms down, a little? Which doesn't make any fucking sense, but it's like the Alpha in him realizes that a person with_ that _kind of smell could take him down with barely a fight. It's easier to put himself second, right below, where he's still hierarchically higher than his Omega but the stronger Alpha won't give him so much shit._

_Steve blinks, surprised, as Tony's scent changes subtly. “Tony?”_

_“It's cool, Cap,” Tony says, because strangely enough, it really is. “Go on.”_

_After a moment's hesitation, Steve does; brings an arm around Clint's form and turns him around so the Omega can curl up against his chest. Clint doesn't quite cling, but he does fist his hands in Steve's shirt and let out a shuddery breath. Steve hugs him, actually_ hugs _the guy, and Clint's whole body melts against the Captain's._

_They look ridiculously good together. Tony wants to sigh in resignation. Despite what he said to Clint earlier, he wouldn't actually come after them if Clint decided to ditch him for Steve. These guys are his friends, and Alpha or not, Tony wants Clint to stay his own person. That includes giving him the chance to choose who he bonds – or breaks his bond – with._

_Clint frowns and tenses, and Steve's look of worry deepens. “Tony? Your scent,” he says, but Clint just whines, low and insistent._

_“What's wrong, boy?” Tony says softly, and the archer squirms out of the Captain's hold long enough to tangle his fingers with Tony's good hand._

_“T'ny,” he rasps out, better than Tony thought he could do right now, and his eyes are still swimming but they're trying_ so hard _to fix on Tony's. It makes Tony's stomach – which was churning uneasily up until now – go loose and warm and mellow._

_“Right here, Clint,” he murmurs and kisses Clint's fingers. “It's good. We're good.”_

_With a shaky nod, Clint leans back into Steve's embrace, and the other Alpha smiles softly at Tony. Judging by the guy's look, Tony thinks Steve would probably be hugging him too right now, if it weren't for Tony's broken bones. It's a strange, but not unwelcome thought. Alpha-alpha pairings do exist, rare and side-eyed as they might be, but Tony's never thought of the good Captain_ that _way. At least not until now._

_Hm._

~*~

It's barely past noon, but both Tony and Clint snooze while they're tied. Steve lets them, his arms wrapped around them both as they lean their weights on him. Clint has tucked his head underneath Steve's chin and Tony's burrowed his face in Clint's cropped hair, pressing faint kisses against the line of his neck, half-there and half-asleep.

They can both blame it on the hormones later. Steve never wants to blame it on anything, the stupid romantic.

“Sir?” JARVIS pipes up.

“Hit me, Jarv,” Tony mumbles into Clint's neck.

“Doctor Banner would like to inform you that you are all invited to a team dinner on the Avengers' floor at six o'clock. His Majesty Thor, it seems, has decided on a Greek theme for the current evening.”

Clint snorts and Steve chuckles. “What'chu think?” Tony says and looks up. Clint just grumbles, still caught up in his Cap-cuddle, but Steve looks down at the Omega.

“You know how it goes, Clint. These are your days. You decide.”

“You don't need to be chivalrous, Steve,” Clint grunts against the Alpha's collarbone. “We're already bonded.”

“But this is the only time you will let me and Tony pamper you,” Steve says in a voice too sweet to be sincere even for him, and Tony laughs.

“Use the word 'pamper' in a sentence with me again and I'll sleep on my own floor for the next month,” Clint warns, eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. The effect is kind of ruined, considering he's still sandwiched between his two Alpha's and beautifully post-knot-flushed.

Tony can't help but poke the archer a little more. “Of course, Clint, baby. You're free to leave. Go on.” And he shifts his hips.

“Ngh – no fair,” Clint says, a lot closer to a whine than the bark he wants it to be.

“Yeah, I know,” Tony murmurs against the Omega's flushed skin. “I feel _awful_.”

“Bet you do.”

“So, so awful. Awfullest.”

“You're a bag of dicks, Tony.”

“You love me.”

“We do,” Steve says quietly, and both Clint and Tony groan.

“Now you gotta go ruin it with _love declarations_ , Cap, really?” Clint whines. Steve _cackles_.

~*~

_Steve barely looks around Tony and Clint's now-shared apartment when they make their way to the bedroom, Tony walking stiffly next to them as the Omega clings to the other Alpha._

_“He needs a knot,” Tony says when Clint has all but slumped down onto the bed, struggling to get out of his clothing. “It's – after a tie, he's usually fine, but he needs that.”_

_Clint whines quietly, and Tony sits down to drag his hand through Clint's hair. “Let Cap help you out, boy.”_

_Clint huffs in what's probably frustration, but leans close to nuzzle Tony's collarbone for a moment._

_“Hey, Clint, let me help you with that,” Steve says gently, and waits for Clint's half-nod before pulling the t-shirt over Clint's head. He undresses Clint with an air to him that reminds Tony of the military, even if he was never technically in it. It's the same calm, brisk efficiency he sees in Rhodey sometimes, Happy other times, and_ always _with Coulson when the handler was alive. In no time at all, Clint is naked. Tony and Steve are still fully clothed, and Clint curls up on top of the blankets, trembling with heat fever._

_“I don't – how would like to be a part of this?” Steve asks, weirdly formal, color staining his cheeks._

_“I've got a couple of busted ribs, so I don't think I'll be much fun, Cap,” Tony says with an easy smirk, before he hears Clint make a low not-quite-sound. “I've got a feeling I should probably stay close to Clint, though. Within touching distance, maybe?”_

_“Yeah, you could sit on the bed here,” Steve says and promptly begins to prop up pillows against the headboard on Clint's usual side of the bed. The Captain smiles. “That way you're close enough to touch, and he'll be able to hold onto your leg or something if he needs to.” He turns to Clint. “Does that sound acceptable, Clint?”_

_Clint just curls up further and shudders._

_“I think it'll have to do,” Tony says and settles, somewhat awkwardly, against the wall. His ribs throb, and he does his best to ignore them. Instead he buries his hand in Clint's sweat-soaked hair, and the Omega visibly relaxes even though he doesn't uncurl._

_Steve strips quickly, not bothering to turn away as he does – it's strange, but Tony figures shyness won't really help any of them in this situation. The tension is thick in the air and it's a little awkward, a little uncomfortable, but not unbearably so. Steve still looks flustered beneath his bangs, embarrassed, though Tony sees the minute he's naked that he's got nothing to be embarrassed over. Pinnacle of human perfection indeed, jesus fuck._

_“Guess the serum enhanced_ everything _, huh, Steve?” Tony says._

_Steve huffs and rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Tony.” But the tension doesn't increase, and soon the Captain crawls onto the bed and over to Clint, who's nuzzling Tony's hand. “Hey, Clint.”_

_Clint doesn't answer, but he wraps his naked body all around Steve's and_ clings _, the Captain blinking in surprise before his eyes soften._

_“Hey, you're okay,” he says and fits one of his big hands against the back of Clint's neck, cradling his head, brushing his hand past Tony's in a lingering, deliberate way. “We've got you, Clint.”_

_And Tony smiles at that, before he fully realizes, because... that doesn't sound too shabby, actually._ We've got you. __

_“Is it okay.. if I kiss him?” Steve asks Tony._

_“Yeah,” Tony says and grins. “He loves that.” Then he recalls his first heat with the Omega and his smile dims. “No dirty talk, though. Or pain. We're not into that.”_

_Steve's cheeks darken, but he shakes his head resolutely anyway. “No, that's – not a problem, I promise.” He looks down at the naked Omega in his arms. “I'm more of the... other type, really.”_

_Tony chuckles. “Just say it, Cap – you're totally the lovey-dovey kind.”_

_Steve grins. “Yeah. I am.” And with that, he leans down and kisses Clint deeply._

_Clint_ mewls _; his body arches up against the Alpha and his arms slide around the super-soldier's waist to bring him closer. Steve lowers himself so he's lying on top of Clint, covering his body with his own, his hands gentle as they trace the archer's toned arms. Clint spreads his legs and wraps them around Steve's waist, locking him in place, which makes Tony laugh where he sits. It jostles his aching ribs but it's so fucking worth it._

_Steve looks surprised at this, but pleased, and leans back to grin down at the Omega. “You're a little pushy, aren't you, Barton?”_

_“ 'ck you,” Clint rasps, but gives Steve a shit-eating grin and flings out an arm to wrap it around one of Tony's legs. Tony fits his hand over the archer's._

_“Hmm,” Steve hums and leans down for another peck, before he sits up a little. “If that's true, I think there's been some major miscommunication.”_

_Clint bursts out laughing; low, throaty, a little loopy from the heat hormones, and Tony's heart skips a beat. Clint is ridiculously beautiful when he laughs._

_Steve's grin doesn't falter, but he settles more firmly against Clint's hips, so his intentions are clear. Tony can see his hard-on from where he sits, and there's nothing wrong with the look of that thing, nossir. “Are you ready, Clint? I'll start with my fingers.”_

_Clint just nods jerkily, his own fingers on Tony's leg tightening. He gasps when Steve's hand disappears from Tony's view, and his hips starts undulating slowly._

_Tony isn't sure the original plan involved him being turned on as hell by watching his Omega get fucked by Captain America, but it's certainly happening now._

_Clint must notice the spike of arousal coming from Tony, because his eyes flutter shut and he inhales deeply, like he's trying to soak up Tony's Alpha scent through his nose alone – since they won't meld their bodies this time around._

_“Are you okay?” Steve asks after a handful of minutes and what Tony assumes is a second or third finger, his eyes trained on Clint most of the time. He shares looks with Tony every now and then, though; not strained or nervous, like he's worried about what Tony thinks. No, Steve looks pretty pleased about this whole deal, actually – like he's honestly glad that Tony's here._

_“Ngh,” Clint says and his hips stutter when Steve hits his good spot._

_“That means yes,” Tony says, and Steve laughs quietly before removing his fingers._

_“Okay, I'm gonna – now, if that's okay,” he says and looks between the two of them, still so goddamn earnest and sweet, even in the middle of a heat-fueled threesome. Tony wants to laugh – instead he gives the Captain a decisive nod._

_He wishes he could bend down to kiss Clint; the Omega's eyes are mere slits, but they're still trained on him to the best of their abilities, and he smiles and rubs soothing circles on the back of his archer's hand. “You're doing good, boy,” Tony says quietly and Clint sighs at the praise, his eyes fluttering shut again._

_Then Steve is there, and_ there _, and Clint sucks in a breath that's probably one part pain, two parts relief, and five parts pure awesome. Steve goes slowly, but steadily, and doesn't stop until he must be balls-deep within the archer. Then he shudders out a breath and let his head drop to Clint's chest for a moment, pressing an absent-minded kiss to the feverish skin beneath. Clint's free hand comes up to card through Steve's hair, trembling – Tony doesn't think Clint even realizes that he's doing it. But he can see Steve's smile, how his shoulders relax a fraction, like he was still afraid up until a moment ago that he was messing Tony and Clint up by being here._

 _It's this, that one little moment in the wake of a dozen others, that makes Tony realize that he'll talk to Clint (and probably Steve) about a repeat performance. When Clint is off his heat and Tony's ribs have healed. Because Steve... Steve_ fits.

~*~


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No chapter warnings, though there's blink-and-you'll-miss-it mention of past Pepper/Tony.

They do end up going down for dinner. They've spent most of the day lounging in the living room, and spent an obscenely long time in the large bubble-bath in their main bathroom, but none of them particularly want to make food right now. Besides, they haven't seen the rest of the team for an entire day. (Of course, the team knows _why_ , so there isn't a problem.)

“You reek, Barton,” Natasha says when they show up in the Avengers' shared living room, which is her own brand of showing that she's pleased with – Tony doesn't know, with _something_. Natasha and Clint have their own, special way of communicating. (Sometimes he wonders if Coulson and Clint were the same way.)

“Oh, _Nat_ ,” Clint says and flings his arms around her. “You say the sweetest things.” He rubs against her, the mingled smell of heat-Clint-Steve-Tony covering her, and she doesn't squeak – because Natasha never squeaks – but she does grimace and tackle the Omega to the floor.

“You are an asshole,” she says, holding him in that special thigh-grip of hers. It sounds like a love declaration and Clint beams.

“I am.”

“Aaaand a good evening to you all,” Tony says and turns to the two other Avengers in the room. Bruce and Thor are cooking tonight, it seems, and Thor's even wearing a frilly, white apron on top of his usual battle gear. “Lookin' sweet, Mean Swing.”

“Thank you!” Thor says and grins at him from over a huge bowl of Greek salad. He straightens his apron and Tony notices that it's strangely clean, for a... well, apron. “It was a gift from my beloved, Lady Jane. She shall join us shortly.”

“Awesome!” Tony says and sits down between Clint and Steve, silently applauding the other scientist for her taste in clothes and humor.

“I'm starving,” Clint announces and leans back in his chair with all his usual bravado, though he hooks his leg with Tony's under the table. The smirk from Natasha lets them both know that she didn't miss that.

“I'm not surprised,” Bruce says, which is about as close as the doc comes to being cheeky. It's charming, really; the first couple of months he lived in the Tower, Bruce mostly skulked around like he expected to have to run any away moment. Since then, he's calmed down a lot, and by now he seems more like the Alpha he is than the Omega Hulk was created to be. Tony and Clint have even managed to infuse the scientist with a shard of their awful humor. It's all good.

They've already started eating when Jane walks in, hair plastered to her scalp and her coat soaked. “It's pouring outside; I'm sorry I'm late,” she greets them, shaking her head like a wet dog. For some reason, she doesn't look like a wet dog while doing it – more like she's casually in a hair commercial or something. Tony figures it's one of her special talents.

“Lady Jane!” Thor booms and rises to his feet – still wearing his apron – to bring her into what must be a crushing hug and kiss. Jane laughs into the embrace and squeezes back, her eyes closing. They're the picture of a movie romance and Tony finds himself smiling; knows the rest of the team are doing the same. It's hard not to feel happy with Jane and Thor in the room, as strange as their dynamic is. Apparently, Asgard only have two genders – male and female – and Coulson had had to explain Earth's genders to Thor when he had first come down here. Tony wishes he was there for that conversation; apparently it was all kinds of hilarious.

Tony's heard several stories about Thor's epic battles with the Warriors Three and with Sif, one of the first warrior women in Asgard, and a lady their demi-god harbors a lot of respect for. Considering that, maybe it shouldn't have been a huge surprise that the Asgardian started dating a female Alpha, but it was. The media still haven't gotten over that; even after a year the couple still make headlines.

“Jane, it's good to see you,” Steve says, his usual sunny self.

“It's been a while,” she says and does a cute, little wave to the rest of then before sitting down on Thor's lap. She's small and dainty enough that most people assume she's an Omega, or at least a Beta. Seeing Alphas get a whiff of her and then do a double-take when they realize that technically, she's the one wearing the pants in the relationship, makes Tony double over with laughter every goddamn time.

Conversation flows easily, Natasha and Clint switching over to their twin language every now and then, Steve and Clint both leaning subtly against Tony's sides. Tony and Bruce discuss particle processors and Jane feeds Thor strips of chicken dipped in tzatziki. Steve and Jane talks about The West Wing, of all things, while Thor occasionally offers his thoughts on the subject. It's all terribly domestic and normal, at least until every Avenger's special-issued StarkPhone buzzes with an alert.

“So much for sleeping in tomorrow,” Tony mutters when he reads the text from HQ – assembly tomorrow at 0900 hours. “Everyone got it?”

Nods and muttered agreements from everyone but Jane, who eats her souvlaki while politely ignoring them all, since this is technically stuff she shouldn't know about.

“Weird,” Clint says. “I'm still supposed to be on heat leave tomorrow.” He frowns and thumbs absently at his touchscreen. “Must be pretty important.”

“But not urgent enough to assemble us immediately,” Steve adds. “Hm.”

~*~

_Steve turns them both around when they are tied, so he's on the bottom and Clint rests on him. “He's not really heavy,” he murmurs at Tony's enquiring eyebrow. “I barely feel him.”_

_Clint is out like a light; his heat took a lot more out of him than the last time he and Tony were together, on account of the waiting alone. Luckily Steve hadn't tried to turn this into a waiting game, and had let himself go and knotted Clint the moment the Omega had come._

_“Are you okay?” Steve asks, looking up at Tony. “Do you need... help?”_

_Tony glances down at his insistent, but slowly flagging, sweatpants-covered erection. “I'm fine, Cap, thanks for asking.” He snorts. “I don't think my ribs would appreciate it anyway. Didn't figure you for an Alpha-skirt-lifter, though.”_

_“I'm not,” Steve says easily, “not that I know of. But we are three people here; we're all part of this.” He smiles, looking carefree and flushed and sated. Like every day is threesome day for Captain America._

_Tony's sure it could be, if the guy was wired like that. “Ah, you're being a knight in shiny armor, that it?”_

_“Right now I think I'm covered in something else shiny,” Steve says, almost demure, and trails his hand soothingly up and down Clint's spine. The Omega still sleeps, his breathing slow and even. It's a nice change to the fast-paced, pained breaths they heard from him only an hour ago, and Tony smiles at the archer. The only person who can see him now is Steve, and Steve won't tell._

_Hell, Steve is wearing the same sappy smile himself._

_“As soon as Clint gets through his heat, you are going back to Medical to get your ribs properly fixed,” Steve says, quiet, like it's not an order. Tony knows it is._

_“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Cap.”_

_Steve smiles, looking at Clint's rapidly twitching eyelids for a moment, before glancing back at Tony. “Do you want me to leave when we untie? I'll understand.”_

_Tony knows very well that_ I understand _isn't the same as_ I want to _, so he shakes his head. “Nah, it's rude to kick out a guest before the morning-after breakfast. Wouldn't want you to think badly of the twenty-first century, Cap.” He smiles. “Besides. Clint is a cuddler. Don't tell him I said that – he'd stab me.”_

_Steve's entire frame softens. “I won't tell.” He looks down at Tony's – at their, maybe – Omega. “Thank you, Tony.”_

_“Hm?”_

_“For letting me... I don't know.” Steve shakes his head, his mouth still quirked._

_Tony leans back against his heap of pillows, closing his eyes for a moment. “You're all kinds of welcome, Cap.”_

~*~

The team make their way to HQ together, in the Quinjet that's usually parked on the roof of the Tower. Clint is on his last heat day, so he's mostly okay, but both his Alphas stick close to their Omega anyway. Just in case.

It's not Hill waiting for them, like usual – instead Fury's in the meeting room, hands clasped loosely behind his back and his eye following each of them closely as they trail into the room.

“What's with the face, sir?” Tony says when he plops into a chair, swivelling it around so it squeaks. Fury looks... grave, he supposes the word is, and Tony's got a bad feeling, but he'll hide that behind bravado for as long as he can. Easier that way.

Steve sends him an unimpressed look, so Tony's clearly not fooling anyone. Fuck it, worth a try.

Fury actually _sighs_ before he starts talking, which startles Tony more than he likes to admit. The reason for the Director's strange behaviour becomes painfully apparent, though, once Fury starts spouting shit like 'amending initial prognoses' and Agent Agent, Phil fucking Coulson himself, walks into the room. He doesn't try to speak over the sudden cacophony of confused, surprised and angry voices, just nods his head at them, something strangely like a smile on his face.

Against all odds, nobody punches Fury or Coulson. The latter probably because nine months after getting stabbed through the chest, the agent looks pallid and wan as hell. The former is... well, because he's Fury.

The room stinks of anger and hurt and betrayal, and even through the seven distinct smells from the team (Hulk and Bruce smell different, which Tony thought was weird until he realized they're pretty different people, even sharing the same body), Tony can scent how not-well Clint is doing.

“Hey,” Tony says and strides over to the archer, just as Natasha all but runs up to Coulson to scream furiously at him in Russian, more livid than Tony's ever seen her. Thor clutches Mjølnir and looks supremely displeased with the situation, and Bruce is taking deep, calm breaths while the Big Guy smells confused.

“The fucker,” Clint chokes out, swaying on his feet while his eyes stay trained on his ex-handler. “You _fucker_.”

“Barton,” Coulson says, the first thing he's said since he came back. He grabs Natasha's wrists lightly and she lets him, stiffening when he murmurs back at her in her mother language. When he moves, she steps aside and lets him walk up to Clint. “Clint. I'm sorry. I didn't know at the time, not until I woke up-”

Clint stomps hard on Coulson's foot, like a bratty kid. Steve gasps and Tony might or might not snort an undignified laugh. The handler winces and sways on his feet. “Ow,” he says, perfectly level, almost like a question.

“Let me help you with that, sir,” Clint says, his voice cold and sharp, and worms his arm around Coulson's waist. Coulson leans heavily against the archer, clearly favoring his other leg. “Director, team – if you'll excuse me, I'm helping agent Coulson back to Medical.”

Fury rolls his eye. “I should write your ass up for insubordination, Barton.”

“And I should probably make your life a living Hell in return for the last nine months, sir,” Clint says flatly, him and Coulson making their way towards the exit, the latter still a little wobbly.

“You're a very complicated person, Clint,” Coulson says as the two of them leave the room. He sounds almost fond.

~*~

_Breakfast next morning is strangely devoid of awkwardness. Steve and Clint tie one more time in the morning, and Tony watches like the last time – he'd started getting up to get them all some food, but Clint had honest-to-god_ whimpered _, a sound Tony has never heard him make before. The archer had flushed a deep red when he realized, but Tony had ignored the pain in his ribs and leaned down to kiss him soundly, and Clint had relaxed at that. He'd clung to Tony's leg the entire time he was tied with the Captain._

_If there are any lingering doubts that Clint is planning to leave Tony for Steve, they're dim enough that Tony can't feel them right now._

_They eat breakfast take-out in the living room couch, Clint curled up between them, half-asleep. His smell lingers, and his body temperature is elevated, but he's_ Clint _again and Tony feels like he can relax properly for the first time in days. Even though it's not because of him, Clint now has the smell and feel of an Omega taken well care of._

_It's long past lunchtime when Steve finally gets back into his own clothes and prepares to leave. Clint's hormones are calming the fuck down, and with Tony here to ground him, he should be okay for the next day and a half. The archer stands by Tony, touching lightly so he doesn't jostle the fractures, giving Steve a lopsided smile a touch softer than his usual smirks._

_“Thanks, Cap.”_

_“It was a pleasure,” Steve says, and if he weren't_ Steve _, Tony would call cheap pun. As it is, the subsequent blush spreading on the good Captain's cheeks convinces him that said pun was very much unintended._

_Tony chuckles. “Goddamn right it was, Rogers.”_

_Steve smiles at that, shy even for him, and rubs the side of his neck in a self-conscious, slightly clumsy fashion. He looks reluctant to leave, like there's still something on his mind, and after a moment's silence, Clint speaks. “What's up, Steve?”_

_Steve's eyes flicker up to Tony's for less than a second. “I – it's nothing important,” he says and half-turns to leave._

_“No no, we're curious now,” Tony says and grabs the other Alpha by the elbow. “Come on, Cap, share with the class.” He makes sure not to push his scent at him, or otherwise seem intimidating – not that he probably could be, even if he tried. Not with Cap. Even so, it doesn't hurt to be polite._

_“It's...” Steve chews his lower lip, like a teenager, and looks up at Tony again. “I'd very much like to kiss you, Tony. If... if that's alright with both of you.”_

_Tony blinks. That's... not something he expected from the other Alpha. A quick look at Clint, and the mischievous smirk he's sporting, tells Tony all he needs about the lack of problems his Omega has with that suggestion. And Tony doesn't... mind, not really. “Uh, sure?” he says, because he's an eloquent motherfucker._

_Steve takes a step forward, his hand landing on Tony's shoulder, so light he can barely feel it. The super-soldier doesn't look away when he leans in, slowly, giving Tony more than enough time to pull away if he wants. In the end, Tony's the one who closes the final inch of distance between them._

_Steve kisses... it's difficult to explain, actually. Not like an Alpha, that's for sure – Tony had expected him to try and dominate the kiss, dominate_ Tony _, but there's nothing power-hungry about Steve at all. And yet he's not meek, or even yielding like Clint can be in heat, like a typical Omega kiss. If anything, Steve's kiss reminds Tony of Pepper, of that Beta equality feel; neither forcibly taking nor freely giving, the dynamic shifting so subtly between the two of them that Tony barely notices, even though he's giving this his complete attention. And Steve's lips are so_ soft _, as if the super-serum provides the guy with constant, baby-smooth skin._

 _There's a hand on Tony's neck but it's not squeezing, not_ doing _anything; just resting there, lightly, and that's when Tony realizes that he can feel silky hair between his fingers. His eyes are closed and Steve's scent surrounds him, Clint's tang unmistakable beside them both, and it's surprisingly, strangely comfortable. Tony curls his fingers in Steve's hair, earning a small shudder from the Captain, and hears a low, pleased, rumble. Like a purr._

 _It takes him a moment to realize it's not coming from Steve; it's coming from_ Clint _._

_They part to stare at the Omega, who suddenly looks deer-in-headlight-y. “I didn't say anything,” Clint says, almost but not quite defensive. His cheeks are pink._

_“You were_ purring _!” Tony says, sounding delighted to his own ears. And... maybe he is._

_“So?” Clint snipes, folding his arms across his chest. “If you guys didn't notice, that was hot as hell.”_

_The two Alphas share a look. Steve's eyes are bright and his smile is small, secret. He rubs his neck but doesn't say anything._

_“No, I think I noticed,” Tony says haltingly, and Steve brightens further. And that's just... fucking adorable, isn't it? So Tony leans back in because really, that was a very good kiss. Like, really good. Gotta-do-that-again-as-soon-as-possible good._

_Steve looks surprised, but his hand is still on Tony's neck and he seems just as eager as the first time, so in the end they just... stay like that for a while. Trade kisses softer than Tony's used to. Explore in the doorway to their apartment while Clint stands close enough for them to reach and touch if they want._

_“I should go,” Steve murmurs when they pull apart again. “I have de-brief to attend, since you two are on heat leave for another couple of days.” He turns to Clint, his eyes flickering between Tony and the Omega for a sign of disapproval, before he dips in to slant his mouth over Clint's. Clint kisses back, though he tangles his fingers with Tony's working hand._

_“Thank you both,” Steve says and steps out of their personal space. “It was...”_

_“Yeah,” Clint grins._

_“What he said,” Tony chimes in, and Clint chuckles._

_“Tomorrow you're going to Medical with your ribs,” Steve says to Tony, his eyes still too soft for it to sound like a proper order._

_“Sir, yes sir,” Tony says and mock-salutes him._

_“Still incorrigible,” Steve sighs, and sounds nothing but happy._

__

~*~

The rest of them stay in the boardroom, while Fury explains what just happened and how the _hell_ it could. Being Fury, the guy doesn't give them a lot to go on in terms of specificity, but Loki's magical glow-stick had a lot to do with it. Tony wonders how Coulson and Clint feel about that.

Clint still hasn't returned by the time they're dismissed, so his two Alphas make their way to Medical without a word to each other. Tony wonders how the hell SHIELD and Fury managed to keep Coulson a secret from JARVIS.

Now that the cat is out of the bag, it's not difficult at all to find Coulson's room, and Clint is sitting on the bed next to his ex-handler when Steve knocks and enters. Tony is right behind him. “Clint?”

“I'm good,” Clint says through a sigh. “Mostly. For now.” He gives them a tired, slightly bitter smile, and Coulson smiles too, though he looks sad. It's a strange sight.

“Just – don't do so well with surprises,” Clint finishes and trails off, dragging a hand across his face.

“Yeah, I figured,” Tony says and resists the urge to shove his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“It's good to have you back, sir,” Steve says, ever the peacemaker, and nods at Phil.

“Thank you. I haven't been back for all that long – it's pretty disorienting,” Coulson says and rubs a hand over his chest. It doesn't look like he realizes he's doing it.

“I can imagine,” Steve says.

“I don't doubt that, Captain.” The handler leans back against the pillows with a deep exhale. There are dark, purple bags beneath his eyes, and the lines around his eyes and mouth look deeper than only minutes ago. He's wearing one of his usual suits, but no tie, and the top button of his shirt is open, displaying the top of his collarbone. The suit looks a little baggy and the agent's cheeks are sunken, his entire frame looking a lot bonier than Tony remembers. Coulson must have lost a lot of weight in the last months and not had time to put it back on yet. And as pissed off as Tony is for the game, for the lying, for everything – he feels pretty damn sorry for the guy.

“You look like shit, Agent,” he says, and it doesn't come off as sarcastic.

“Thank you, Tony.” Coulson doesn't smile, but he opens his eyes, and there's an amused glimmer in them.

“Woah, we're on first-name basis now?” Tony says, grinning. “Why, _Agent_. Does this mean I get to call you Phil? Don't look at me, I might blush.”

“ 'Agent' is fine if you prefer it,” Coulson says drily, the closest he's sounded to his old, unflappable self so far. “I thought we might be past the 'Stark' stage, seeing as you've apparently bonded with one of my agents.”

Tony blinks at that, and Clint's cheeks tint.

“That goes for you too, Captain,” Coulson – Phil – says with a small smile in Steve's direction.

“Please, call me Steve, Phil,” the Alpha says with a toothy grin.

“Alright; Steve,” Phil says, his gaze not quite wavering, but close. His fingers twitch, barely, and Clint chuckles.

“Don't swoon now, Phil. It would freak out the good Captain.”

Phil huffs what must be a tired laugh.

“Right,” Clint says and hops off the bed. “We're gonna let you rest for a while, sir. I'll be by soon.” He squeezes Phil's shoulder lightly, and Tony knows that even the Beta can smell the relief emanating from the archer. No matter how standoffish Clint may act, or how angry he may seem, Tony knows it's all the Omega can not to pull his handler into a fierce hug and refuse to let go. Clint would never do it, he's _Clint_ after all, but Tony knows him well enough to know that the archer wants to.

“I'll be holding my breath, Barton,” Phil says blandly, and Clint actually smiles at that.

“See you soon, _Phil_ ,” Tony says, and walks out of the room with Cap right behind him. Clint follows them, but Tony still hears the soft, warm parting words between the agent and the handler before he's out in the hallway. 

“I did tell you, Clint.”

“Shut up, Phil.”

~*~

_“Poke me,” Tony says and lifts his t-shirt. Clint arches his eyebrows at him. “I'm serious! Poke me in the ribs!”_

 _Clint does and it hurts, because Clint is a fucking assassin and Tony's not super-human as much as he pretends to be, but it doesn't_ hurt _hurt. Tony barely gasps and staggers backwards, and that alone makes him shout with joy._

_“You're such a kid, Stark,” Clint says, indulgent. He's just gotten back from another undercover mission in South America, and Tony can see from the tense lines of his body that he's exhausted, but he still slouches in the doorway of their bathroom like there's nowhere else he wants to be._

_Tony sucks in his stomach and pushes it back out, just to feel the lack of aches from his ribs. Then he spins around and wraps his arms around his Omega; buries his face in the crook of his neck, where his smell is extra strong. Just normal Clint smell – along with sweat and blood and a long, grueling mission – but delicious nonetheless. “Missed you,” Tony says into the skin._

_Clint hugs him right back, some of the tension bleeding out of his body. “Missed me on the mission, or missed having sex while your ribs healed?” His voice is velvety soft._

_“What, I can't have both?”_

_“You're Tony Stark. Of course you can.”_

_“I love being me,” Tony murmurs against his Omega, and they both know he means_ I love having you _._

_They end up showering together; Clint is clearly flagging and he'll fall asleep long before anything overly sexy can happen, but it's a great opportunity to map each other out. For Tony to notice every new bruise and scrape on his partner's body; for Clint to reacquaint himself with his Alpha._

_“I've got this great idea,” Tony says when they're drying each other off, going for intimacy rather than foreplay. He towels Clint's hair and the agent leans into the touch, the last of his work persona slipping off until they're just Tony and Clint, not Iron Man and Agent Barton._

_“I thought all your ideas were great,” Clint says, too mellow to pull off sarcasm._

_“They are; don't be stupid. But this one's even better than usual,” Tony says and thinks about Steve. He's been doing that a lot lately._

_“Must be something really special, then.” Clint slides his arms around Tony's bare waist and they stand like that together for a while, in the middle of the bathroom, familiar bodies pressed against each other._

_“It is. Wanna hear?” Tony tucks his face in against Clint's neck and the Omega does the same._

_“Love to.”_

~*~END~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Thank you all so much for commenting and giving me kudos! I'm fairly new in this fandom and I've never written Steve/Clint/Tony OR a/b/o dynamics before, so I'm thrilled that y'all liked it.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! <3


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